


a national treasure

by starklystar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Steve Rogers, Crack Treated Seriously, Email Meet-Cute, Fluff, Guns, M/M, Misunderstandings, Professor!Stark wins nobel prizes via youtube, Scientist!Tony Stark, Steve Rogers is Secretly a Millennial, Steve Rogers is a little shit, The Avengers (2012) Compliant, Youtuber!Tony Stark, also he isn't clueless, brief mentions of, he adapts to the future, in case that is a trigger, tags will be updated as the work gets posted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:46:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starklystar/pseuds/starklystar
Summary: Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls.-x-OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 225
Kudos: 667
Collections: the stevetony social media(ish) fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update at least once a week!

“…and that’s why you shouldn’t mess with time, instead of pushing yourself through time, you might push _time_ through _yourself_. The EPR Paradox, and your mom has to change your diapers again.”

The camera pans out to the side, away from the holograms and zooming onto Tony’s face. “Okay, that’s it for unravelling time travel, don’t forget to like, subscribe, and leave some comments!” He gives one last smile into the camera and then, “DUM-E, cut. Good boy.”

As JARVIS starts processing the video to be uploaded, Tony grins at Peter’s latest message: _Mr. Stark pls dont win another nobel thru youtube u make science class harder each year_

 _Sorry_ , Tony texts back entirely unapologetic, _i might have solved time travel. get off your phone & listen to the teacher_

Thirty seconds later, his phone chimes again, a picture of a dark classroom with the projector showing Tony frozen in mid sentence.

 _U r the teacher_.

* * *

“Those files are on your new teammates, Captain,” Sitwell points to the four thick manila folders on Steve’s right, “and these files are some which may interest you.”

Steve takes the stack of folders from Sitwell as graciously as he can, balancing them in one hand as he flips open the topmost folder, taken aback by the unfamiliar face and all too familiar name.

_Anthony Edward Stark_

_DOB: 29/05/1975_

_Place of Birth: Manhattan, NY._

_Family: Howard A. Stark, Father, DECEASED (12-17-1991); Maria Collins Carbonell Stark, Mother, DECEASED (12-17-1991)_

_Employment: Youtuber. Formerly CEO of Stark Industries and Head of R &D at Stark Industries._

It goes on and on, and Steve frowns, looking up at Sitwell and around at the small Brooklyn apartment he’d been given. “What’s a Youtuber?”

Sitwell clears his throat, “ah, that comes a little later in your lessons about the future. After you learn about the internet.”

Steve barely resists the urge to punch something.

A cursory glance at the room is enough to tell him that they’re still treating him as if he’s fragile – the radio in the corner looks painfully old, and from what Steve saw of Times Square, the telephone next to the door must be a relic fished out of an old nursing home, as are the miserably beige curtains covering the windows.

Frustrated doesn’t quite sum up what Steve feels. Yes, he’s still mourning for Bucky, for the Commandos and for Peggy and the life all the _could have's._ Yes, he’s been asleep for seventy years, and a small part of him is grateful for the familiarity of his surroundings.

But a larger part of him chafes at being belittled.

This is the world he’s living in now, and there’s no use hiding from it.

“If you don’t mind, Agent, could I use that cash you gave me for a hotel?” Steve asks, putting his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders slightly, the picture of contriteness that used to get Mama Barnes to do anything Steve wished for, “I don’t think I’ll get along with my neighbours – you see, we’ve sort of got workplace issues.”

Sitwell blanches, and it’s just about all Steve can to do stop himself from laughing. The future might be different, but Steve knows _people_ , and he’d known as soon as he shook hands with Mr. 4A and Mrs. 4C that his neighbours were agents planted to babysit him.

“I’m sure we can rectify the situation, Captain,” Sitwell deflects, hands obviously itching to reaching into his jacket for that slim, black rectangle he’d tried to keep away from Steve’s eyes.

“Of course, Agent,” Steve smiles bright and polite and entirely too innocent, “I wouldn’t want to be a hassle.”

* * *

They had tried to explain inflation to Steve before Sitwell shoved a thousand dollars in Steve’s hand, promising that an agent would drop by and take him shopping for clothes.

Inflation existed in the 1920s, and as shocking as holding _one thousand dollars_ felt, Steve knows that seventy years is a long time for prices to go up. He isn’t stupid.

He can go out by himself just fine.

First, though, Steve hadn’t been involved in a spy agency for nothing. He dumps his stack of folders into an armchair and begins taking the books off the shelf.

Time to hunt for all the hidden microphones.

* * *

He takes the fire escape and hails a cab, gratified that they’re still the same bright yellow.

“Where to, sir?” the cabbie greets.

Steve has a second to think up a story before his mouth blurts out, “what’s that glowing rectangle?”

Somewhere, Bucky is laughing at him, and elsewhere, Peggy would have smacked Steve's head. Luckily, the driver doesn't do much except make a face at Steve.

“Uhhh, my phone?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, the nearest place I can get one of those, please, uh, Scott,” Steve quickly reads the driver’s name stuck on the visor, which seems to pacify the guy as he finally stops frowning at Steve and starts looking at the road.

“You’re not crazy, right?” Scott tentatively asks.

“A crazy person doesn’t know they’re crazy,” Steve quips back. No one is supposed to know that Captain America is alive. He respects and understands SHIELD’s decision. That doesn’t mean Steve Rogers can’t get a life.

Scott clears his throat, slowing the car down for a red light, “okay, so you looking for a StarkPhone, Apple or Android?”

Steve is definitely not looking for a fruit or a robot. He picks the safest option. “A StarkPhone. You have a recommendation?”

* * *

It turns out a cabdriver is more insightful than all of SHIELD.

* * *

The internet is a wonderful, wonderful thing. All StarkPhones are equipped with a mini artificial intelligence, Steve learns, and it saves Steve from having to ask a multitude of awkward questions to the storekeeper, who already spent long enough squinting at Steve for pulling out a wad of hundred dollar bills from his pocket.

Steve had nearly gotten a heart attack when the storekeeper had asked him to shell out five hundred dollars for such a small thing – but three minutes on the phone, and Steve thought the storekeeper was crazy for selling it so cheaply.

Maybe this was why SHIELD had wanted to introduce it slowly to Steve.

The boundlessness of the future: it leaves Steve feeling adrift, lost in the sea of people surrounding him. Flashing billboards and people glued to their little screens, nobody seems to care or notice who Steve is, and it doesn’t feel terrifying.

It feels right.

It feels like freedom.

Bucky would have loved the future, Steve wistfully thinks as he stares up from the sidewalk at the towering buildings. When Asimov’s book about robots had come out in the middle of the war, Bucky had talked about their three laws with Howard, debating the endless possibilities of science that bordered on fantasy.

For a moment, Steve closes his eyes, holding the memory crystal clear in the forefront of his thoughts.

“You would have loved this magic, Buck,” Steve whispers.

And then he lets his breath go.

And he lets his memories rest.

* * *

“Sir, you have twelve missed calls from MIT, a voicemail from Doctor Banner, a long-worded message from Ms Potts, and several unanswered invitations to conferences and talkshows.”

“Tell MIT I’m not teaching, curriculums are boring,” Tony scoffs, adjusting the lights and checking that the coils are level, “tell Bruce we need to make another Science Bros vlog and tell Pep I’ll be out in three hours tops.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Great, we’re naming this next video _How to Make a New Element in Your Basement: DO NOT TRY AT HOME._ ”

* * *

Youtube, Steve learns quite quickly, is as informational as it is crazy, and it is far less boring than reading through mind numbing SHIELD briefings on the past seventy years.

In fact, there are very aptly named videos like _The Past Seventy Years in Ten Minutes_ , through which Steve learns about the moon landing, the end of segregation, the Berlin Wall and the Gulf Wars, and how polio and smallpox aren’t a concern anymore.

Eventually, when Steve finds himself lying awake on his bed, alone and too keyed up and not daring to close his eyes, he finds himself typing _Anthony Stark_ next to the little magnifying glass on top of the screen.

A round picture of a bearded man with a gaping mouth pops up, the words _Tony Stark_ and _Subscribe_ next to it, and Steve warily presses on the image. His screen morphs.

_DO NOT TRY AT HOME_ the first video warns, and below it, _Time Travel Babies | That Was Easy #57_.

With a frown, Steve presses on the first video carefully, still unused to the ‘touchscreen’. The video starts out shaky, with Stark’s blurry face coming in and out of focus. “Hey, hey you wanna get donated to the library? Over here – eyes front, that’s it,” Stark waves in the screen, his voice filling the emptiness of the room.

Steve had seen Tony Stark’s formal picture in the SHIELD file, but this? The lights around him have been perfectly placed, hitting his eyes to bring out their brown – brighter than Howard’s, and softer – and those _glasses_. Behind him is a cluttered table with glowing blue screens, and even further in the background, if Steve squints into the screen of his phone, he can see a long metal cylinder stretching beyond the screen.

“First of all, if you haven’t noticed, the September Scholarship Applications are open, so go check the link in the description, and second, seriously, don’t try this at home.” Stark moves to stand up, and the camera follows him with a small _beep-beep_ in the background, “I’ll be walking you through what a particle collider is and how you can use them to make fire, explosions, and chaos.”

If watching Howard work felt like watching a whirlwind, watching Tony work felt like understanding a whirlwind. The way he was mindful of using simple words – Steve found himself learning about orbitals and electron stability, holding his breath as the screen whites out, and swallowing when Tony strips out of his shirt down to his tank top.

Steve isn’t sure what Youtubers do outside of making videos, but they must be doing _something_ because Tony’s arms are _built_ , the muscles rippling as he pulls a long wrench, and –

“Don’t forget to like, subscribe, and leave some comments!”

His screen fades to black, the video ending all too soon, and suddenly Steve’s room feels too quiet.

A heartbeat passes.

 _Tony Stark_ , Steve’s mind fiddles with the name, getting used to the sound of it, and trying to piece together ‘ _Youtuber_ ’ with ‘ _genius_ ’, ‘ _rich_ ’ and creating a new goddamned element in the basement.

It’s crazy and impossible and brilliant.

* * *

Steve clicks on the next video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you can't see the edits, go over to my tumblr: https://starklysteve.tumblr.com/tagged/social-media-aus
> 
> also, fun fact: Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics was first published in his 1942 short story "Runaround" and Bucky is a tech geek so Steve would have been shocked by AI but not *that* clueless about things :)


	2. Chapter 2

When Tony started the channel in 2008, he never expected it to grow as fast as it did. After Rhodey had carried Tony out of the caves, after Stane died in an… unfortunate incident, Tony had wanted a break. He gave Stark Industries to Pepper under two conditions: that the company never manufacture weapons again, and that Tony would still be designing products even if he held no other position except majority shareholder.

Staring at the unfinished designs for a flying suit of armor, all the _what ifs_ running through his head: _if he’d finished that suit in the cave, would Yinsen still be alive? If he could build a flying suit, could he use it for the greater good? If he hadn’t been so goddamned desperate for attention, would he have noticed Obie’s lies sooner? –_ Tony had raged and yelled and told SHIELD in no uncertain terms that Tony refused to be a pawn in any of their games any longer.

He was done. He wanted to live on his own terms, design bricks and beams for children’s hospitals.

Of course, that was when the palladium started becoming a problem.

And Tony found perspective.

He didn’t want to die with death as his only legacy, as his only story. He had sex tapes on the internet, endless video reels of his drunk acts and reckless stunts. He wanted something good. Wanted DUM-E and JARVIS and his bots to be seen and remembered, wanted to tell Yinsen’s story so he wouldn’t be forgotten, wanted the world to know about Spring Break and Mama Rhodes, about Happy’s boxing and Ana’s casseroles and Aunt Peggy sparring against Jarvis and his mother’s piano lullabies and how Pepper got her nickname.

All the people drowned out in his shadow – Tony wanted everyone to know the best parts of him.

He had a year at most to live, so he put a camera in DUM-E’s claws and talked for hours.

In the morning, he had uploaded it with a title right out of the depths of his melodrama: _The Confession_.

* * *

It gained a million views in under five hours.

* * *

He made a second video from the overwhelming response to explain various items in the workshop. Nobel Prize laureates, elite spy agencies, leading academicians, black market mafia – they would have paid a limb and a lung to spend five minutes in there.

Tony gave them an hour, pausing at random tools to explain their uses, going off on tangents about physics and mechanics and dismantling one of his Audis.

* * *

That had spiralled off what the internet called _Professor Stark_ , and the endless calls MIT gave Tony begging that he teach for them.

* * *

And somewhere in the comments section, he found a Peter Parker.

* * *

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbles as soon as Tony picks up. He’s panting slightly, voice muffled by the noise around him, and Tony guesses that he’s on his walk home.

Swivelling in his chair, Tony swipes up the reports Pepper’s been hounding at him to read. “I always aim to please, kiddo.”

“We now have another element to memorise. _And_ our homework is to guess at the properties of it.”

Tony scoffs. He knows he’ll have his weekend full of Peter pestering him to make _another_ element together, unless, “we can test that out together, I’ll give your Aunt a call.”

“ _Really_ , Mr. Stark? Ned is going to be _so_ jealous,” Peter whoops, “you’re the best.”

That, as always, sends too many warm and fuzzy feelings, so Tony deflects, “don’t forget that when I’m old and grey.”

Peter laughs. “You’re already old and grey.”

“Hey!” Tony protests half-heartedly, the smile clearly audible in his voice, “I’ll revoke your lab privi – ”

“Bye, Mr. Stark!” the call beeps out.

With a huff of laughter, Tony shakes his head. One day, he’ll have Peter appear in his videos. For now, though, he’s happy to have the kid happy. Peter has all the time in the world to blow everyone’s mind away in the future.

Making a mental effort to turn back to Pepper’s list, Tony scans the items of interest that JARVIS flagged: launching the solar panel housing project, the September Foundation fundraiser, the scientific World Congress keynote speech, and… FRIDAY? Pulling that last one forward to expand the hologram, Tony finds himself frowning more and more.

FRIDAY was one of the experimental AIs he’d installed in the StarkPhones. With user permission, she collected search data and behavioural patterns for future development. And a certain user was behaving like a _dinosaur_.

“What the hell, JARVIS are you sure it isn’t an error in our baby girl? _How to set up an email?_ Did this guy grow up in a technophobe cult? Or is he a troll?” Tony stares in horror at the mismatched queries coming in from this twenty-seven-year-old Brooklyn guy. _What is Google?_ _What is a Youtuber? What happened since World War Two? What is a Twitter? What is an Apple?_ And on and on the list goes, each question as horrifyingly clueless as the next, all asked in a span of twenty four hours.

“I’ve run diagnostics on FRIDAY’s systems, sir, she is running as intended,” JARVIS sounds almost offended. Tony sticks his tongue out at the camera. It’s a justified question, especially when FRIDAY’s user logs indicate that this hopeless guy spent twelve hours straight watching Tony’s Youtube channel.

 _Ah_ , Tony thinks, _Pepper suspects a stalker_.

“Okay, J, let’s send them a message: start with _what the hell_ and end with _are you a fucking Neanderthal_?”

“Very well, sir, I took the liberty of editing your message.”

“Thanks, honey,” Tony grins, swiping the file away and moving to the next red item on the list, “tell me if the fossil replies.”

* * *

From: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

To: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

Sent: Wednesday, 8 May 2011 on 21:17

Subject: User Issues

_Hello! This is an automated email. FRIDAY’s query servers noticed you’ve been having irregular difficulties for your demographic group._

_We reached out to confirm whether your StarkPhone has issues or particular defects which may lead to such queries._

_If you would like a diagnostic check of your device, please send us a reply in 72 hours._

_We apologise for any inconvenience._

_Sincerely,_

_Stark Industries Research and Development_

Steve stares blankly at the screen. He did remember the shopkeeper explaining something about a search history, but he didn’t know he was being watched. And what did it mean by ‘automated’? Did a robot send the mail? If Steve didn’t reply, would that lead to more questions?

Fingers hovering uncertainly over the letters, Steve types a sentence, erases it, types it again, and erases it again. Growling in frustration, he tosses the phone on the bed, heart hammering when it bounces and relaxing when it lands on his pillow. He forgets his strength sometimes.

Running a hand through his hair, Steve glances around at the darkness of his room and the unpacked bags of clothes from his earlier shopping with SHIELD. As soon as he arrived back, he’d taken a quick shower and pressed on that little arrow in a red box to get the Youtube screen, continuing where he left off with Tony’s videos last night.

He hadn’t searched for anything today, so it must have been yesterday’s question that got the robot’s attention. Steve makes note of that, promising to tone down his next searches, no matter how irresistible the wealth of knowledge seemed.

Sighing, Steve climbs onto the bed, crossing his legs and picking up the phone. Steeling himself, he types out a message. At the end of it, he debates whether or not to use his real name. It’s a common enough name, Steve decides, ending his headache.

Then, pressing on the little paper airplane, he sends it.

Quickly, before his mind can wander again, he opens Youtube again, scrolling down and down.

Tony’s channel is curiously made, as if whatever he chose to put on the internet was done on a whim. There are videos labelled _Pepperony Pizza_ with a woman who is apparently the current CEO of Stark Industries, and other videos labelled _MIT Bloopers_ with an African American man. Those ones were especially enjoyable to watch – it’s clearly visible how fond Tony is of his friends, and that particular story about Rhodey, Tony, and their microeconomics professor had sent Steve _laughing_ louder than he remembered he could.

It was nice, too, learning that the world was getting better. Steve had felt his heart stop when Tony nonchalantly talked about sexualities – homosexualities, asexuality, pansexuality – and so many other new words Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around. The whispered conversations he’d had, huddled with his Ma in their little bed, wondering what it was Bucky liked about the girls he brought home, and the lazy campfire evenings with the Commandos, the _don’t ask, don’t tell_.

Maybe, maybe Steve could build a new life in this world. Maybe not all hope was lost.

And it was in those moments when he learned just how much humanity had progressed that Steve didn’t regret waking up seventy years in the future.

“I’m as straight as a circle,” Tony had winked at the end of the video, making Steve very, _very_ grateful he was alone in his room.

SHIELD really did gloss over all the best parts.

Scrolling past some other videos, Steve feels himself smile as he sees the _Science Bros_ label, Tony’s face frozen indignantly next to Bruce Banner’s. The doctor’s calmer character toned down some of Tony’s bouncing energy, but one sly look of Tony’s was usually enough to convince the doctor to carry out whatever harebrained experiment Tony had come up with.

To be fair to Doctor Banner, Steve thinks that one look from Tony would be enough to convince Steve to do anything, too.

And Steve quickly runs away from that thought.

* * *

From: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

To: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

Sent: Wednesday, 8 May 2011 on 21:36

Subject: Re: User Issues

_Dear Robot,_

_I believe my phone is functioning well. It is a joy to use. I spent my entire adult life deployed in the military, so I missed out on a lot of events. Hopefully that helps explain some of my queries. Getting this phone was such an excitement, I couldn’t help myself._

_Thank you for your concern,_

_Steve_

Tony stares blankly at the message shining in the hologram. One, he never expected the fossil to reply so fast, and two, he doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh or run. Either ‘Steve’ is a troll with stalkerish tendencies, or he’s actually telling a ridiculous truth.

Whichever it is, Tony finds it too amusing to let go. “Hear that, JARVIS?” Tony grins into one of the cameras, “you’re my dearest robot.”

“If I weren’t, I could easily ruin you, sir.”

“Please spare me when you take over the world,” Tony teases, bringing up a keyboard and typing his own reply to ‘Steve’, JARVIS polishing his language as he goes. If ‘Steve’ is messing with Tony, the guy deserves a taste of his own medicine.

* * *

From: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

To: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

Sent: Wednesday, 8 May 2011 on 21:57

Subject: Re: Re: User Issues

_Steve,_

_Thank you for your reply. Should you have any queries FRIDAY is unable to answer, please feel free to contact me._

_Sincerely,_

_Robot_

* * *

From: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

To: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

Sent: Wednesday, 8 May 2011 on 22:19

Subject: Re: Re: Re: User Issues

_Dear Robot,_

_Are you really a robot? Do you have a name like FRIDAY? Apologies for being very forward._

_Sincerely,_

_Steve_

* * *

From: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

To: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

Sent: Wednesday, 8 May 2011 on 22:37

Subject: No

_Steve,_

_I am an artificial intelligence. I do not have a physical form and therefore I transcend the paltry limits of the robot body._

_Sincerely,_

_AI aka Edward_

* * *

From: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

To: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

Sent: Wednesday, 8 May 2011 on 22:49

Subject: Re: No

_Dear Edward_

_How many of you are there? Do you answer all of Stark Industries’ correspondence? FRIDAY says she is not aware of an Edward, so you must be new. Tony Stark’s lecture videos say that AIs have different personalities and emotions. Did he create you, too?_

_Please ignore this if you are busy._

_All the best,_

_Steve_

Okay. No. This guy _cannot_ be serious. Tony squints into one of JARVIS’ cameras. “Hey, J? We need to do some digging.”

“Might I remind you, sir, that there are more legal ways to do this?”

Tony makes a face, already busy pulling up a new file and naming it _Crazy Steve_. “Yeah, but it’s slow and boring.”

* * *

The emails have stopped coming in, and Steve stares at his screen. He did say Edward could ignore him if needed, but it feels weird to see their conversation come to such an abrupt end. It was nice to have something outside of SHIELD.

Of course, Edward was a robot, but he was thinking and feeling and remembering, so he was alive, right?

Shaking his head to try and clear it, Steve puts down his phone and gets up, pointedly ignoring how sparse and bare the apartment still is. Clicking on the bathroom light and flooding the room in a yellowish glow, he reaches for his lonely toothbrush and the newly opened tube of toothpaste.

It tastes different from the paste he’d used with his Ma. Stronger, minty, less bitter.

Spitting it out, he rinses his mouth, catching sight of his reflection and quickly turning away. He doesn’t want to see.

Turning off the faucet sends back the eerie stillness of the apartment, and Steve quickly flicks the light switch and walks back to bed. Slipping awkwardly under the covers, the bed too soft and the pillows too fluffy, he restlessly twists and turns until he reaches again for his phone.

For a second, he pauses, wondering how _Stark_ had quickly become _Tony_ in a matter of a few videos. It’s calming, to hear his voice, and his laugh somehow makes Steve want to laugh, too.

It’s frightening. And it’s the only thing that helps Steve sleep.

Tomorrow, he has to meet with Agents Romanoff and Barton.

But tonight, he’ll watch Tony, and drift off to his rambling about engines and energy and the stars.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update for you all! hope you stay safe and happy and sane :)

“Captain Rogers,” Agent Barton greets as Steve enters the conference room five minutes late – he hadn’t meant to be late, he’d been distracted listening to Tony talk about his bots, and SHIELD’s New York headquarters wasn’t somewhere Steve was too keen on visiting.

For all that Steve had read about Agent Barton’s impressive skills as an archer – Steve wondered at the practically of using a Neolithic tool for modern weaponry. Steve was old, but at least he wasn’t as old as the bow and arrow – Agent Barton looked as if he’d simply rolled out of bed. His hair was stuck up all over the place, both legs resting on the table as he leaned back in one of the many chairs, but there was a hard set to Barton’s jaw, and the harsh lines carved into his face told Steve much about him.

Whether Clint Barton was another SHIELD lackey to keep Steve ‘in check’ was yet to be determined, but Steve knew that Barton was smarter than Sitwell, and not to be trifled with.

“Agent Barton,” Steve greets back amiably as he walks into the root, taking the seat across from the man. “Is Agent Romanoff here yet?”

“I’m here.”

Resisting the urge to whip his head, Steve slowly turns around. He hadn’t realised there was anybody behind him, and he stands back up to take her hand. Her grip is firm, soft calluses on her slender fingers, and her smile is sharp and coy all at once. “Agent Romanoff,” Steve smiles back.

“Captain Rogers,” she acknowledges, going to sit at the head of the table, crisply opening the file she brought, “let’s get started, why don’t we?”

Agent Barton groans. “That’s boring, Nat. Can we do this somewhere else? Introduce the Captain to some cafés? I need coffee.”

“The break room is right next door,” Agent Romanoff says, unimpressed. She flicks her bright red hair behind her shoulders, raising an eyebrow when Agent Barton opens his mouth. He closes it with a grumble. The smile on Agent Romanoff’s face grows softer, almost fond, and Steve has read their files, how well they both worked together on the field – it’s painful to watch them and remember the easiness Steve used to have with…

It isn’t the time to think about that, Steve forcefully reminds himself, tuning back to Natasha’s words, “so, Captain, we’re part of a team Director Fury is trying to assemble. Others on the roster include Doctor Bruce Banner, Thor, and Captain Danvers.”

She slides the folder over to Steve. He quickly scans the briefing – Fury had explained the general idea but refrained from expanding to give Steve time to adjust to the future, and Steve is suddenly excited to be a part of it. It will give Steve purpose, and, most importantly, “Doctor Banner will be joining us?”

He can’t keep the excitement out of his voice, and Agent Romanoff latches onto it with suspicion. “You know Bruce Banner?”

“He’s Tony Stark’s Science Brother,” Steve grins as innocently as he can. If they’re going to be a team, these agents need to realise that Steve isn’t taking SHIELD’s ridiculous syllabus on the future. It gives Steve a brief flash of satisfaction to see Agent Romanoff’s face blanch for a second before he can collect herself, and, to his surprise, Agent Barton cackles.

“Who got you a phone?” he asks, finally taking his feet off the table and leaning forward, the bored glaze in his eyes gone entirely.

Steve steadily maintains his innocent grin. “I went and bought it myself.”

He knows that SHIELD can probably access the information in his phone if they learned that he possessed one, but Steve has nothing to hide. Yes, it irks him that SHIELD could probe so deeply into his life, and yet they would eventually realise that Steve was in possession of technology they tried to keep him away from. He remains baffled at _why_ they adamantly kept Steve away from such a wonderful tool – still, if they tried to take it away from him, well… Steve knows both legal _and_ illegal ways to procure new ones.

"SHIELD didn’t notice?” Agent Romanoff prods, eyes sharp and reassessing. Steve knows that in his plaid shirt and combed back hair, his looks can easily deceive. Perhaps his reputation precedes him, too – he had FRIDAY search for Captain America, and the results had Steve cringing and laughing all at once: the epitome of patriotism, the virtuous, law-abiding citizen. 

SHIELD hadn't known to expect trouble because they never suspected the truth.

It might be useful to keep them ignorant, but Steve is exhausted at having everyone treat him like a fool or a fragile, fragile thing.

“No,” Steve decides to nonchalantly reply, idly flipping through the file in front of him and watching from the corner of his eye as Agent Romanoff continues to silently appraise Steve.

It goes on for another second.

And then, she nods to Agent Barton.

“Captain, call me Clint,” he smiles. He reaches one hand over the table, waiting for Steve to shake it. After a moment, Steve does, and Clint's smile broadens. “It seems I started with the wrong impression of you.”

“Let’s go introduce you to modern cafés,” Agent Romanoff chimes in, standing up and tossing the file in the bin, her aim perfect. “Don’t trust Clint’s tastes, and you can call me Natasha.”

“In that case,” Steve says, not quite sure what exactly is happening, “call me Steve.”

Natasha's smile is entirely too wide and too full. “Well, Steve, I think we’ll have some fun together.”

* * *

It turns out, neither Agent Barton nor Agent Romanoff have a good history with rules.

And they’re more than happy to bend some for Steve.

* * *

“What things have you done with the internet, Steve?” Clint wiggles his eyebrows. A pause, and, “oh _god_. That feels weird. Can we stick with Captain?”

They’re tucked in a corner of a coffee shop at Park Avenue, Natasha treating them to their cups of coffee. Steve had been overwhelmed: coffee was coffee, not the endless list of absurd names he couldn’t understand. Thankfully, Natasha had raised an eyebrow at Steve and ordered a frappuccino for him – which turned out to be the sweetest, most sinful drink he had ever tasted.

Sugar was not something you could get cheaply when Steve grew up. And drinking so much of it felt like a guilty, forbidden pleasure.

“You can call me whatever you like, _Agent_ ,” Steve shoots back, and Clint makes a face.

“Okay, fair enough. Steve. That’ll take some getting used to. But the important stuff: you need someone to guide you to the best the internet has to offer.”

Natasha snorts, her lips twitching. She doesn’t come to Steve’s defense, though, choosing instead to calmly sip at her cup of warm tea, leaning back against the corner sofa she claimed for herself.

Steve shrugs. “I mostly watch Youtube. I read a few articles – don’t quite understand the obsession about Mordor man, but I did read the books during the war. I know why one does not simply walk into Mordor.”

Clint chokes.

“Who the _hell_ ,” he curses, “wrote your SHIELD file?”

“Peggy did, back then,” Steve haltingly says, “she wrote everything wrong so people wouldn’t be encouraged by my outlandish ways. Throwing yourself on a grenade isn’t really in the Army’s recommendations.”

He knows she’s still alive, but he hasn’t found the courage, or the strength, to find her. She has a husband, and children, and less than ten people know that Steve is alive. Peggy isn’t included in the list, retired as she is, and Steve doesn’t want to intrude, to dig up her old wounds that are still too fresh for Steve – he isn’t ready to face everything he’s lost all over again yet, content to stay in his bubble of FRIDAY and Youtube videos.

“She would do that,” Natasha nods, and then, “why the grenade?”

Despite the pain, Steve is grateful. It’s refreshing to talk with someone who doesn’t care about kid gloves. “It was a test. I like to think I passed. You knew her?”

“Peggy was still Director when I joined,” Natasha explains, voice soft. There’s a story there, and Steve makes note to dig into why she sounds fond of Peggy and less so of Fury or Secretary Pierce.

Clint makes a noise. “So,” he cuts in, “what _have_ you been doing other than learning about memes?”

“Watching Youtube,” Steve admits easily, and because he really can’t resist any longer, “why does SHIELD have a file on Tony Stark?”

Both Natasha and Clint snort. It’s Natasha who answers, “I take it you didn’t bother to search about him?”

Steve shrugs. “I read his files. I didn’t want to intrude further on his privacy.”

“How can you break all the rules and then be so nice?” Clint grumbles.

“I, to put it nicely, liaised with Stark Industries before he left that life,” Natasha speaks over him, “and his technology, if he wanted to put it into use, would have placed him higher than you on the Avengers list.”

Time travel, clean energy, artificial intelligence – Steve thinks of all the inventions he’s watched Tony talk about, of flying suits and flying cars and life-saving technologies. And he thinks of Tony trying his hardest to inspire people of all ages to enjoy science, and the money and time he throws freely to keep children in school, hospitals running, and families fed.

A hero isn’t a title. It’s in the actions and the doing.

“Why isn’t he still on the list?” Steve asks.

“He’s an ass,” Clint shortly announces, making Steve frown.

“He’s an ass ‘cause _you_ were an ass,” Natasha shakes her head, lips curling up, amused. “He refused. Said he liked teaching kids more than being government property. Always puts our calls on hold because, apparently, he likes watching the line blink.”

A startled laugh bubbles its way out of Steve. “Well. I think SHIELD just can’t afford him.”

The all too-knowing look Natasha sends him makes him want to squirm. Her smile turns sly. “He’s moving here soon, you know? That big ugly tower you pointed out at the corner?” She nods her chin towards the window, where the construction site is visible, cement mixer trucks queuing to enter, “that’s 200 Park Avenue, or the new Stark Tower.”

“Supposedly,” Clint adds, “Stark’s going to install an arc reactor. Enough to power his whole building and all of the city’s schools, hospitals, and shelters.”

Steve looks back at the towering hunk of concrete and steel, somehow less ugly than it used to be. When he turns to face Natasha again, he knows that she’s figured him out.

“I can get Ms. Potts to arrange a meeting.” Then, as an afterthought, she adds, “you might be the perfect person to convince him to join.”

Steve has no interest in forcing anyone to do anything they don’t want to do, but he can’t deny wanting to meet Tony.

So he just nods, and tries his best to not sound too eager.

* * *

“Okay, JARVIS, what’ve you got for me?” Tony leans back in his sofa. Pepper’s spent the entire morning haranguing Tony about safety standards and floor plans for Stark Tower, signing documents upon documents that remind Tony why he made the best decision giving the CEO title away to Pepper.

A series of holograms light up, showing viewing statistics and the latest recording. “I have checked that the arc reactor in your chest is not visible throughout the entire video,” JARVIS dutifully reports, “and you received roughly three million dollars for last month’s Youtube views. I took the liberty of transferring it to the September Trust Fund.”

“Thanks, dear,” Tony grins. He watches a few extra seconds of the video anyways, needing to see for himself. No one can know that Tony’s walking around with the most coveted piece of tech in the world. He’d learned his lesson from Ob – from Stane, and he keeps the light carefully covered. Letting the sound of Rhodey’s laughter rush through him and chase away those thoughts, Tony finally says, “alright, let’s upload this baby. JARVIS, name it: Mama Bear and Microeconomics, put it in the MIT Bloopers playlist.”

“Very well, sir.”

Tony hums. “What about our Crazy Steve project? You got anything good for me?”

“Always,” JARVIS sounds almost affronted at any hint of failure. The holograms morph in front of Tony, showing a location map in… Brooklyn? ‘Steve’ barely has a digital presence, the only account he has is his email: _srogers@starkmail.com_ , which is frankly an insult to Captain America’s identity. Or, whoever this crazy-stalker-slash-confused-citizen is, they know too well about Tony’s issues with the soldier his father was obsessed with.

That’s a scary thought.

“J, do you have location data? Can we track his movements?” Tony thinks aloud, and the map shrinks to show the entire New York city, with roads highlighted and little timestamps next to each route. ‘Steve’ seems to spend his time solely in Brooklyn, travelling around the same few blocks for an hour each morning – most likely for a run – and then just wandering near what is presumably his apartment. Except, this morning, when he made an unexpected trip to an office building in Manhattan and… a coffee shop across Stark Tower?

Even scarier.

Tony flicks his fingers to zoom in on the map, “what’s the building ‘Steve’ visited today, J?”

“Unmarked, sir. Would you like me to search in alternative databases?”

Tony shrugs. “Chin up, JARVIS. Not the first time we hacked past the government. Rhodey doesn’t even bother calling about it anymore.”

It’s a vaguely familiar location, a little off Times Square. He scratches the back of his neck, fiddles with his phone. Peter’s been quiet today, making a dull day even duller, and –

“Sir, I found a match in SHIELD’s databases. The building appears to be their New York Headquarters.”

“ _Seriously_?” Tony hisses, “how low are they going to stoop to try get me to talk with them? Didn’t they learn enough from Natalie?”

Tossing his phone on the couch, he pulls up his email on the holograms and starts typing himself, needing to vent his annoyance.

* * *

From: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

To: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

Sent: Thursday, 9 May 2011 on 10:12

Subject: tell fury i’ll sic pepper on him

Cc: [vpotts@starkindustries.org](mailto:vpotts@starkindustries.org)

_Steve,_

_You can cut it. SHIELD is not getting my tech, my help, or my money. Expect Ms Potts and Stark Legal to follow up. Stop making a shame of my godmother’s agency. And fire your bonehead of a boss who thought this plan could work. Coulson will do it officially when he gets wind of this._

_Worst Regards,_

_You know who I am and what I can do_

* * *

From: [vpotts@starkindustries.org](mailto:vpotts@starkindustries.org)

To: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

Sent: Thursday, 9 May 2011 on 10:31

Subject: Calm Down

_Tony,_

_I’ll handle it, but please don’t blow SHIELD up, refrain from hacking too deeply (lost cause, I know) into their servers, and don’t forget to have lunch._

_\- Pepper_

* * *

When Steve locks his apartment door and takes off his shoes, he feels more refreshed and energetic than he’s felt since… before all this. It’s pleasant, to find a modicum of purpose and a plan for tomorrow that doesn’t involve trying to desperately come to terms with being thrown out of time. He doesn’t trust Natasha and Clint with his life yet, but he has a feeling that one day, he will.

Being SHIELD agents aside, they’re ridiculously talented – and more importantly, _good_ – people who are more than government lackeys.

His hunger well-sated with the seven hotdogs he had for dinner, Steve lets himself slump in the armchair and enjoys the strange feeling of looking forward to waking up. They’ll train tomorrow, test out how they fare against each other, and Steve’s itching to release all his pent up energy on something other than the hopelessly weak punching bags of the local gym.

After a while, he fished out his phone and presses his thumb on the little circle on the bottom to ‘unlock’ it. Steve smiles at the little envelope icon on the top left of the screen. Edward must have written while Steve was too distracted to open his phone.

Eagerly, he taps on the icon and –

He frowns, feeling his heart drop and confusion mount.

Yes, he knows Edward is _not_ a robot but is an artificial intelligence who can do a lot of complicated things.

He doesn’t understand the rest of it, though. Ms Potts? Stark Legal? Godmother? Did Steve do something wrong? And how did Edward figure out that Steve’s associated with SHIELD?

* * *

From: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

To: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

Sent: Thursday, 9 May 2011 on 22:17

Subject: Re: tell fury i’ll sic pepper on him

Cc: [vpotts@starkindustries.org](mailto:vpotts@starkindustries.org)

_Dear Edward,_

_I think you might have made a mistake. I do not know a Coulson nor do I know what SHIELD wants with you._

_Hopefully, that helps whatever legal problems Stark Industries has._

_Sincerely,_

_Steve_

* * *

From: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

To: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

Sent: Thursday, 9 May 2011 on 22:41

Subject: did i stutter

Cc: [vpotts@starkindustries.org](mailto:vpotts@starkindustries.org)

_STOP PRETENDING_

* * *

Steve shakes his head. He supposes he’ll ask Natasha tomorrow about what all this is about. She hadn’t made fun of him for his confusion about technology, and had been delighted enough to know Steve had snuck out against SHIELD’s will.

Maybe something is wrong with Edward. Natasha had warned him about viruses, and Steve has half a mind to send another message asking if Edward is alright.

It feels foolish, though, so he ends up closing the mail with a sigh.

There’ll be answers tomorrow, and hopefully Edward will be healthy again.

Tonight, he’ll just turn back to Youtube and search for Tony’s familiar face and that calming voice that sends Steve into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for edits check my tumblr! starklysteve.tumblr.com/tagged/social-media-aus


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent so much time writing and rewriting this and changing the plot based on how this chapter went, and I'm not sure how I feel about it, but after some delay, here it is! Hope you all are safe and sane :)

With a cup of warm tea in his hands to persuade Natasha, Steve steps cautiously into the dimly lit gym at the heart of SHIELD. He’s getting marginally better at navigating the imposingly dull grey corridors to get where he needs to be, so he’s a few minutes early and gratified to see Natasha already in the midst of warming up. Clint isn’t anywhere to be seen, but that’s perhaps for the better if Steve wants to get his confusion about Edward’s well-being out of his head. 

Waiting for her to finish her set of stretches, Steve clears his throat before he starts approaching her, mindful to give her enough warning of his approach. He knows she likely noticed his presence despite her back turned towards him, but he doesn’t want to take chances with all the skills and abilities listed in her file.

“Hi,” Steve eventually greets, holding out the cup. Natasha turns around to face him. She cocks an eyebrow, obviously seeing through him.

“What did you do, Steve?”

The playful accusation stings for how similar it sounds to how Bucky and Morita used to say it, fond and exasperated all at once, and Steve swallows to keep the memories at bay.

“I, uh, brought you tea?”

“Sure,” she smirks, taking the cup and taking a light sip from it. The curve of her lips turns softer as she tastes it, Steve having unconsciously memorised her order. “What else did you do?”

Steve pockets his hands uncertainly, not sure what he should do with them, and the brush of his fingers against the screen of his phone is grounding. “So, I’ve been – ”

“Captain, Agent. With me, now.”

They both whip their heads around, Fury’s commanding voice echoing through the all but deserted gym. The Director is standing with a scowl on his face, and Steve supposes Edward can wait a little bit more. He gives a questioning glance at Natasha, but she just shrugs, walking towards the door with as little clue as Steve.

Fury gives them a curt nod and leads them down the halfway, into the elevator. His coat whips about his ankle and Steve wonders how the man can manage such thick clothes indoors. He doesn’t get long to ponder, however, because Fury’s back to glaring at the both of them as soon as the elevator starts moving up.

“ _Someone_ tipped Stark off that Captain America is alive and well,” Fury growls, “something to do with an unauthorised piece of tech?”

Even with only one eye, Fury’s glare is fearsome. But Steve’s been in a war, he’s faced down Nazis, the Red Skull, and an angry Peggy Carter. Fury’s glare is nothing. So Steve smiles sweetly, “what kind of tech would it be, Director? I still haven’t fully caught up, you see.”

A barely audible snort of laughter comes from Natasha and Fury’s scowl grows. “I expected better from you, Agent.”

“Well, Director,” Natasha points out, unperturbed, “I thought it was good for his modern education.”

Fury shakes his head. “How did you even escape your apartment unnoticed long enough to buy a phone, Captain?”

It’s Steve’s turn to shrug. “I have my skills.”

Just then, the elevator dings cheerfully, doors sliding open to what Steve presumes is the entrance to Fury’s office. A retina and handprint scan later, they walk into the large space overlooking the streets of New York and Fury waves them over to the sofas.

“Sit,” he shortly commands, not bothering to sit himself, instead pacing the considerable length of the room as Steve and Natasha quietly watch. “When I took this job, nobody thought to warn me about _you_ ,” Fury mutters under his breath.

“To be fair,” Steve finds himself unable to keep quiet for long, “they thought I was dead.”

“Agent Coulson just got off the phone with Ms. Potts. Stark is coming here himself. He’s pissed.”

Those words make Steve perk up. Agent Coulson _is_ a SHIELD agent, and his dealings with Stark Industries must be why Edward had mentioned the name. Still, that doesn’t explain why Fury’s agitated about Tony coming over. How long were they planning to keep Steve’s… return a secret for, anyway?

“He hacked the servers again?” Natasha asks, “couldn’t he settle for a phone call?”

“Apparently, he’s dusted the cobwebs off his suit and is flying here,” Fury intones, the weight of his words undecipherable to Steve. Steve’s pretty sure that a suit has the same meaning now as it did seventy years ago, but Natasha’s next words make him less certain.

“The _suit_? Are you sure? Didn’t he say he destroyed them all?”

“I’m sorry, what suit?” Steve finally has to ask, because this conversation is spiralling fast away from anything Steve had prepared himself to handle this morning.

“I need more than a coffee to deal with this,” Fury curses.

“Why are you all so afraid?” Steve asks, even more confused.

“Stark is richer than most countries in the world,” Natasha explains, “he isn’t CEO any longer, but his wealth and all the senators and Presidents he knows? Rumour has it, he has the Queen’s private number. He’s angry _and_ powerful.”

“Why _is_ he so angry?”

Neither of them answer, trading tense looks until eventually Fury stalks back to the elevator with a huff, turning around at the last second before he’s out of their sight. He pins them with his one eye, daring them to argue. “I’m getting us breakfast. Don’t you dare leave this room. And tell Barton to not step anywhere _near_ this building. He’ll start a fight with Stark and that’s one headache I do _not_ want to deal with.”

Natasha makes a face. She respects Fury enough to heed his words, but not so much as to fear him. “Get three extra portions for Steve!” she calls to Fury’s retreating back, and Steve’s sharp hearing picks up Fury’s muttered, “ _motherfucker_ , I run a spy agency, not a kindergarten.”

Steve clears his throat. “So.”

Natasha stands to move to the sofa opposite him, placing her half-finished cup on the small table between them. Lounging back in the sofa, she explains some more. “Stark can be arrogant, narcissistic, self-obsessed. He cares about people, but when he’s pissed, he’s an ass.”

“He sounds worlds away from the man in the videos,” Steve muses, fiddling with the pen and paper next to Natasha’s cup. The man he’s spent hours watching in the little screen of his phone is passionate about life and learning, he gives free scholarships and donates to children’s hospitals. Steve knows Tony has a shadowed past, but he can’t be the same man anymore, can he?

“He’s not a team player,” Natasha absently tells him, more preoccupied with her phone for the moment. It reminds Steve that he hasn’t asked about Edward yet, but he’s more curious about Tony and the prospect of meeting him that Steve pushes that matter aside for the moment.

Glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the clear skies of the city, Steve casts around his mind for memories of Tony’s SHIELD file. “You recommended him for the Avengers.”

“I recommended _Iron Man_ , not Tony Stark.”

That distinction doesn’t ring any bells. There wasn’t any mention of a metal man in the file. Perhaps it was in one of the entirely blacked out pages. “Iron Man?”

“You’ll see,” Natasha purses her lips, distracted, “he hasn’t quite forgiven me for that yet, because he can’t accept the truth to it. We don’t need Tony _Stark_ , we need _Tony_.”

“He sounds like a complicated man.” And a fascinating one, but Steve doesn’t voice that out loud, not wanting to reveal even more of himself to Natasha’s sharp eyes and ears.

She laughs, “you don’t know the half of it.”

* * *

Tony can accept a spy in his company. He can accept them meddling with the palladium issue. He can even forgive them for their presumptions and transgressions.

He can’t, however, accept them hiding Captain goddamn America from him. Fury _knows_ about Howard’s obsession. Hell, part of Howard’s will had stipulated a significant amount of his wealth to finding Steve fucking Rogers.

SHIELD could have had the courtesy to simply _tell_ Tony.

Pissed is an understatement. He thought that the roar of the wind in his ears would be calming, but he’s too angry and annoyed to find any joy or comfort in flying. All his daddy issues aside, he’s also angry that they didn’t have the courtesy to tell Aunt Peggy either that they’d found the Captain, and what a load of bullshit that was.

There’s something going on in SHIELD that they’re so desperate to keep this under wraps, and Tony spent the entire night rooting out their files, digging deeper for any malevolent secret they might be hiding. He hasn’t found much, so far, even if what he _has_ found is incriminating and enough of a leverage to get them to _listen_.

Tesseract experimentation, harnessing weaponizable energy – was SHIELD really that brainless?

Shooting through another sonic boom, Tony continues to fume.

The sky is beautiful, the clouds stretching out below him, and what a wonderful, wonderful day it will be for Tony to crash into SHIELD’s windows in plain sight. If they have the guts to keep Captain America under wraps, they can have the pain of keeping Iron Man under wraps too.

And with that, he hurtles into Fury’s office window.

* * *

“Get back!” Steve shouts, instinct kicking in and he grabs Natasha, pulling her behind a sofa and eyes darting everywhere for a weapon.

The red and gold monstrosity is clanging around, its heavy weight crunching and thudding over the shards of glass that were once the elegant panes of Fury’s windows. Whatever it is, Steve’s beginning to feel his grip on the future slip away again because those robotic attackers of the fictional world _cannot_ be real can they?

Fury’s not yet back, so it’s possible for Natasha to warn him, and there must be backup in this building, right? Their mission statement is to protect against these advanced threats – the robot is coming closer, a rough crackling sound coming from it – he needs to get Natasha –

Natasha is… _laughing?_

“What?” Steve angrily hisses, and her laughs grow louder, she’s clutching her stomach with one hand as her other bats Steve’s away with surprising force.

She stands, revealing their position. “Always the drama queen.”

The robot turns to face her, the golden mask blank and expressionless, two blue slits as its eyes. Steve dares to stand next to Natasha, and from this angle, it’s easier to catalogue the robot. A glowing metal circle shines from his chest, and if Steve has to guess, that’s where the power comes from – light is energy, Tony has explained in his videos – and that’s therefore where the weak spot must be.

“Is that the Capsicle?” the robot _speaks_ , now standing motionless in the middle of the room. From the openness of the smashed windows, Steve can hear the distant noise of sirens in the street below them. Good. The authorities know something is wrong here, although Natasha certainly seems unconcerned about the intruder.

“Stark, get out of there,” Natasha chides, and – _Stark?_ Oh. _Oh_. Steve is so slow, he doesn’t believe it. That must be the Iron Man she was talking about, and Tony is inside it?

“No can do, Tarantula. Last time you came near me, you stabbed my neck.”

“With a needle,” Natasha rolls her eyes, more to placate Steve’s indignant gasp than to defend herself.

“How ‘bout this: you show me the Capsicle and I’ll show you my pretty face.” The robot, Tony’s?, voice sounds different, more muffled, but the words are certainly his flair. Any other time, they would have made Steve laugh.

“I prefer the term Captain.” Steve is torn between wanting to be annoyed at being called a _Capsicle_ and amazed at the armor. It’s flashy, and he vaguely remembers Natasha warning him that Tony could come off as arrogant and narcissistic.

The helmet stays firmly closed, although the robot does turn its bright eyes towards Steve.

“Stark, calm down.”

Tony bristles at that, pushing down for a moment the swell of anger that rises in him as his curiosity gets the better of him. So _this_ is the Steve Rogers that Howard never shut up about. This man in ridiculously plain jeans and a plaid shirt that makes him look like a prep kid despite the bulging muscles straining the thin fabric.

SHIELD found Captain America. And didn’t seem to think it was important to buy the man proper clothes.

 _God_ , the man’s eyes are as blue as Aunt Peggy had said, and the HUD lights up with pressure points and biometric analyses which highlight the Captain’s fighting stance: feet planted firmly apart, back straight, knees slightly bent. The perfect specimen.

Of course he would be as perfect as Howard repeated over and over again.

“Stark. Tony,” Romanoff calls again, the barest of frowns crinkling her skin.

Tony’s about to send her another biting remark when he spots from the corner of his eye the doors to the elevator slide open, JARVIS already hacking back into the building’s security. He’d disabled the alarms upon entry – otherwise, they’d already be surrounded by the guns of five dozen pesky, prying agents – it’s child’s play to disable the elevator.

Except. The man who walks out of it is entirely too familiar.

“Fury,” Tony grits out as soon as the man passes through the office doors. There’s a bag of what looks like takeout and a takeaway tray of coffee cups in Fury’s right hand.

Everything Tony’s seen today is making less and less sense.

“I’d appreciate it if you stepped out of that suit, Iron Man,” Fury greets back wryly.

Again, Tony bristles. “Why? You scared?”

Fury shakes his head, making a beeline to the overturned sofa behind which the Capsicle and Ms. Rushman are still hiding. “I’m billing you for the damage. Couldn’t you be less dramatic?”

That sets Tony off. “Nuh, uh, you don’t _get_ to tell me to calm down.” Tony advances onto the three of them, armor clunking and repulsors glowing. “We had a _deal_ , Fury. My company had a deal. I could get Pepper to sue you for negligence.”

“That was _before_ you decided to skip off and run an underground vendetta against SHIELD.”

Steve frowns. He didn’t know that Tony was an enemy of SHIELD – he couldn’t wrap it up around his mind. From the person petting his bots to an arrogant traitor, Steve can’t figure out who this robot, this Iron Man, this Tony Stark is supposed to be

“What deal?” Steve hears his own voice cut through the air, breaking through whatever standoff Fury and Tony were having.

The metal faceplate flips up, and _wow_ , Steve’s brain blinks for a second, because it _is_ Tony. Whatever doubts he’d had that the metal man didn’t contain a live person is dispelled, and _god_ , if Steve had found himself captivated by the beauty of the man inside his little phone screen, Steve now found himself falling a second, third, fourth time for the soft and sharp lines of the man’s face.

Despite the confusion warring in him, Steve can still appreciate beauty.

That feeling of awe dissipates soon enough, however, because Tony goes on to say flatly, “you’re a Stark property.”

“I – ” Steve blanches, “I’m not _anyone’s_ property.”

“Yes, but do you know what these bastards will do when they get their hands fully on you?” Tony waves a metal hand. “They’ll turn you into a tool, they’ll use you as their propaganda. SHIELD is rotten to the core. It’s time you all see it.”

“SHIELD’s not rotten,” Natasha insists, and Steve wonders whether she truly believes it or whether SHIELD is simply the only connection she has to this life she treasures, the only connection away from the nightmare of her past.

Tony shrugs. “We believe what we need to believe. But I have promises to keep. You’re not getting Steve Rogers.”

“Well _you’re_ not getting me either,” Steve points out because the audacity of the man – Steve isn’t an object to be owned or collected.

“Not your choice,” Tony blandly replies, a sharpness in his eyes that sends Steve’s nerves on edge. “Have they told you about the Tesseract yet?”

A coldness spread down Steve’s spine. What did that mean? What were they hiding? Steve sacrificed everything to put that cursed Cube at the bottom of the ocean, safe away from the greed of men. Whatever Tony is insinuating, it can’t possibly be true, can it?

“How did you – ” Fury starts to ask and Tony easily speaks over him, scoffing.

“It was _Howard’s_ equipment you used to find it. Did you really think I wouldn’t know?”

The chill pools in a heavy weight, and Steve struggles to breathe. They told him the war ended and that the Alliance won. They didn’t tell him what they lost. What they did to throw away the victory.

“We had a deal: the Tesseract for the Captain’s freedom should you ever find him alive,” Tony continues to speak, faint over the buzzing in Steve’s ears.

Fury casts one swift look at Steve’s stony face. “And if the Captain has chosen of his own free will to be here?”

Tony smirks, cruel and unrelenting. “You never truly gave him freedom did you? I can bet wherever he’s living, he’s surrounded by your agents.”

He’d made that deal with SHIELD knowing full well that if they ever did too much with the Tesseract, Tony could have easily taken it from them. What was less easy was to keep the American icon safe from SHIELD’s poison. Although the evidence was frustratingly bare, Tony _knew_ that something was going on behind the curtains.

A supersoldier in the wrong hands is dangerous.

And as much as Tony had hated Captain America all his life except for a brief period during that horrible hero worship phase, Tony had also loved the stories of Steve Rogers he’d wheedled from his Aunt.

That infuriating, skinny, loud-mouthed, stubborn troublemaker from Brooklyn? As a scrawny fourteen-year-old lost in a sea of uncaring adults, Tony had wondered what it took to stay as strong and true as Steve Rogers.

For that reason, and that reason only, Tony stands firm in front of Fury and Romanoff. The Captain is looking a bit blue around the gills too, and Tony surmises that he indeed hadn’t been told of the Tesseract.

Predictable. All the lies.

“Is it true?” The Captain’s voice is soft and loud all at once.

Fury closes his eye, his head bowed. “Yes. We have the Tesseract, and we’re studying it to _understand it_.”

“We believe what we need to believe,” Tony snipes again, turning slightly to look expectantly at Steve, as if already knowing Steve’s decision.

Steve gives him a small nod. The edges of Tony’s lips curl up faintly, barely there but clear to Steve’s sharp eyes. Natasha, however, seems to have noticed Steve’s choices too, and she moves to stand between Steve and Tony.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Steve?”

“I haven’t _really_ seen the world today. What better way to immerse myself in the future than with the man who built the future?” Steve really can’t help the note of admiration that slips into his voice, and he quickly covers it up with a stern glare at Fury. “You should have left the Tesseract where you found it.”

“Captain – ”

“No,” Steve rants, “you have lied to me at every turn. You tried to lie to me from the very _first_ second I woke up. You tried to keep my world in your control – did you _really_ think I wouldn’t find the hidden microphones you planted all over the place? I was in the war. I worked with spies. And you want me to march to your beck and call? You better think again because I was never a perfect soldier.”

“Oh, Captain,” Tony laughs, and it sends a shard of warmth through the chilling rage bubbling in Steve, “we’re going to have _so much_ fun.”

“And what will you do, Steve?” Natasha asks almost softly, ignoring Tony. “What will you do to fill your days?”

There’s genuine concern in her voice, the caring kindness that had made Steve consider her a friend, and Steve forgives her for her deceptions. Or he’s decided that he will. Just not right now.

He thinks of the hours he’s spent on his phone, of the scarves he used to knit in the trenches, of painting his mother’s golden curls and burning cookies with Bucky. “I’ll find something.”

“Right,” Tony clears his throat, “why don’t you try flying?”

He holds out one metal hand in their direction, the fingers waggling slightly, and Natasha finally takes a step back, shaking her head at Fury in warning.

Steve decides he’ll forgive her sooner.

“As long as we stay in the city,” Steve agrees, walking over and lacing his own fingers over the cold metal, letting his warmth seep into it. He hopes that he isn’t wrong to trust Tony. He hopes he can find an anchor in the future, away from SHIELD, away from the war that they keep fighting.

From this close, Tony’s eyes are golden in the sunlight.

The metal fingers close firmly around Steve’s, pulling him even closer to the metal armor.

“Fury, Romanoff, nice doing business with you both,” Tony grins triumphantly, and Steve can’t help but feel a giddy excitement burn away his anger and confusion.

Except.

The rumble of engines grow louder.

“Captain, do hold on.”

Their feet lift off the floor.

And Steve has a brief flash of the bright lights dotting the Coney Island rollercoaster –

He might have made a mistake –

He holds on as tight as he can.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be way shorter but it took a life of its own. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed letting it flow :)

They land in a back alley, scaring a small group of pigeons and giving Steve the perfect place to throw up the bagels he’d had for breakfast.

He can jump off airplanes just fine, but clinging to a metal armor flying at the speed of sound?

Steve’s cheeks are warm from the burn of the wind, his body doubled over as his stomach heaves, and he feels his cheeks burn warmer when he feels Tony’s eyes trained on him. Hastily standing straight and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he meets Tony’s smirking gaze.

“Do you always fly that fast?” he grumbles, making Tony smirk even wider.

“Darling, I can fly ten times faster.”

The nickname makes Steve grateful for the windburn, because the sound of Tony’s voice – clear and real and so similar yet different to the voice that Steve’s spent hours listening to – is very distracting and not helpful when Steve’s trying to orient himself.

It’s a struggle to wrap his head around the bizarreness of the situation, what with them standing in some random back alley in New York, the distant sounds of honking cars faintly buzzing in Steve’s ears, he can only stare as the metal faceplate flips open.

And the helmet folds itself away from Tony’s hair.

And the chest piece pulls itself apart, further and further away from the glowing light in the center, until all of Tony’s front is revealed and he steps out.

In a span of five seconds, the first thing Steve registers is _short_.

The armor was marginally taller than Steve, but the man inside it barely reaches Steve’s ear. Sure, Tony’s toned arms stretch his visibly overused black shirt, and Steve’s seen videos of the man in those blessed tank tops, so he’s not small. Just shorter than expected.

The second thing Steve registers is that the armor is folding up on itself, impossibly fast and coordinated, the pieces sliding beautifully over each other, collapsing and folding until it forms a far less ostentatious, but still flashy, red suitcase.

And the third thing Steve registers is that the glowing light _is still on Tony’s chest._ It must be a different light from the one with the armor, because it’s soft glue blow is shining through Tony’s shirt.

Steve stares.

Is Tony a cyborg? Half robot, half human? That can’t be possible, can it?

“Hey? Like what you see?” Tony’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and Steve clears his throat to bring himself back to the present.

“No,” he says as nonchalantly as he can, treading carefully to test the waters, “you look better with the suit on.”

Tony grins. “If you’re robosexual, you’ll have a blast in my lab.”

Steve snorts, knowing he’d said the right thing. “So, where are you kidnapping me to?”

“What about donuts and some coffee?” Tony suggests, hefting the suitcase in both hands and making a move to walk out of the alley, which, now that Steve has regained most of his senses, smells awful.

Still, he stops Tony, standing in front of him to block him, and easily fighting his resistance to take the suitcase from his hands. It isn’t the lightest object, but with Steve’s enhanced strength, it’s the least he can do for Tony, who has likely spent all morning flying from California to New York.

“A perfect gentleman, aren’t you?” Tony scowls, crossing his arms across his chest and blocking the circle of light there, “I don’t need your help, you know.”

For a second, Steve regrets his attempt to help, not wanting to start off at a wrong foot. “I know. But I’d like to get out of this foul place faster, and it’ll be faster if I carry it for you.” That seems to placate Tony well enough, and as they start walking again, Steve continues, “do you need something to cover that light up?”

The panic that crosses Tony’s face would have been comical if not for its depth.

“Shit. Damn it, I rushed here and forgot. I can’t go out like this, can we – ”

“Here,” Steve gently cuts off his rambling, using his free hand to quickly unbutton his shirt. He’d worn two layers today, trying to stave off the ever present chill and too lazy to change after his morning run. The plain white t-shirt under his plaid shirt is enough for him to get by, and oversized as his clothes must be for Tony, it must be preferable to walking around with that bright light.

Steve had never seen it in any of Tony’s videos, so he assumes Tony wants to keep it hidden.

And Tony does look torn. “ _Hell_ no. I am _not_ wearing that abomination,” he grumbles.

“I’m sure you’ve worn worse. And nothing’s wrong with this shirt,” Steve crooks an eyebrow and Tony crosses his arms tighter around his chest, his scowl deepening.

“I hate that you’re right,” Tony huffs. “But I’m sort of a fashion icon and influencer, and that shirt is horrible. I’m taking it just so I can burn it later.”

“Sure, you can buy me a new one while you’re at it,” Steve chuckles as Tony sullenly takes the shirt and shrugs it on, fumbling with the buttons. It’s thick enough to cover the glow of the arc reactor, but it drowns Tony, reaching past the middle of his thighs, and Steve resists the urge to tease him. Tony must know what’s running through Steve’s head, though, because he glares at Steve as he roughly tucks the end of the shirt into his jeans.

“You’re a menace,” Tony curses, pushing past Steve to stomp onwards out of the alley, “you’re not getting any donuts.”

“Sure,” Steve amiably agrees, happily trailing behind Tony, grip steady around the suitcase’s handle. They aren’t in any street Steve knows, so he lengthens his stride to catch the small distance between them. “Where are we?”

“Near the best pizza place in New York, but since they’re not open yet, I’m getting donuts and coffee – for me, myself, and I alone,” Tony waggles an accusing finger at Steve, “then again, you need new clothes and we have enough time for shopping.”

“Uh, you really don’t have to. I have enough shirts,” Steve starts to protest.

Tony, however, seems to relish in Steve’s discomfort. “I can see your pecs, Rogers, that’s public indecency.”

For the second time in the same hour, Steve thinks he’ll regret this.

And yet, he follows Tony anyway.

* * *

When Aunt Peggy had told Tony that Howard’s stories of Captain America were too embellished and boring, Tony never truly believed her.

But, as Steve inhales the seventh pan of pizza, Tony thinks he should have given up any pretence of maintaining distance hours ago. The shopping bags filled with leather jackets, running shoes, and a stray sketchbook Steve had picked up reverently at the back of a store are strewn in the floor around them. Steve had playfully tried on a jacket and Tony –

Tony’s pretty sure he’s made a mistake, although he’ll take that thought to the grave. Steve is still wearing the black jacket now over his white shirt, and as salivating as the pizza is, the sight in front of Tony is far more delicious.

As soon as JARVIS had found SHIELD’s files that hinted at the finding of Captain America, Tony had set out to rescue the Captain from SHIELD’s nefarious clutches and vowed to maintain an undeniable distance. There’s a whole bag of issues there that he’d spent years going to therapy for, and Tony has no desire opening them back up.

But the way Steve laughs at Tony’s barbs, the way Steve doesn’t bristle at Tony’s thinly veiled jabs, and the way Steve blushes but still snarks back (‘ _I was in a war, Tony, soldiers get up to all things in the trenches_ ’) at Tony’s innuendoes – it gives Tony whiplash, because eventually, Tony finds he’s actually _enjoying_ himself.

He doesn’t even know when ‘Captain’ turned into ‘Steve’ in his thoughts.

And Steve, contrary to all expectations, starts asking Tony about science.

“I heard you have an AI?” Steve asks around his mouthful of pepperoni pizza.

“Excuse you,” Tony replies, indignant, “I _created_ many AIs.”

“Are they all self-learning? Do you let them do unsupervised machine learning? Or are they supervised?”

Frowning, Tony reaches for his soda to help swallow the pizza crust he’d been nibbling on. “How do you even _know_ those words?”

Steve blushes a curious shade of red. “I, uh, watch your Youtube videos.”

Tony chokes.

 _What?_ No. Not possible. “What? _How?_ SHIELD can’t have given you a phone if they’re trying to keep you out of the loop.”

The grin that Steve sends back is blinding. “They didn’t. I went out and bought one of my own.”

Captain America is a little shit, and Tony should never have believed Howard’s stories of perfection – aside from Steve’s perfect face, perfect eyes, perfect ass –

“And you just decided to watch my ramblings?” Tony asks, cutting off his earlier strain of thought and trying to process the fact that Captain America has apparently gone through hours of his videos to understand about artificial intelligence.

“Well, I wanted to learn about the future.”

Oh, Tony realises, _oh_. He’s so stupid. Good god, he should have known. _srogers@starkmail.com_. All those searches from ‘Crazy Steve’, when really, it had been the actual living, flesh and blood Steve Rogers.

Tony should tell Steve, shouldn’t he?

But that would mean revealing that Tony had toyed with Steve, pretending to be Edward, and how could Tony break that blinding smile? After all the lies Steve has gone through in the scant time he’s been in the future, Tony doesn’t want this lie to be the one that actually drives Steve mad.

So, instead, Tony settles on saying, “generally, people go to Wikipedia.”

“Boring,” Steve mumbles around his mouthful of the eighth pizza. The family running this small pizza parlour is getting a hell of a tip from Tony. He’ll even drop another scholarship for their second daughter. Steve swallows and continues, “your videos are far more entertaining.”

And really, what can Tony say to that?

“Right. I’m the best. But, we haven’t talked about your living arrangements,” Tony deflects.

Steve simply shrugs, finally taking a napkin and wiping his mouth. “I like my apartment. I’ve messed with SHIELD’s bugs, and the florist by the corner gives me a flower when I pass by them on my run.”

“Of course they do,” Tony mutters. “Thing is, I’m not moving to Brooklyn. Are you done eating?”

“For now,” Steve nods, “and the thing is, _I’m_ not moving to California.”

Tony smiles. “Good thing my Tower’s one week away from opening.”

Steve snorts, leaning back with an all too innocent look. He takes a sip from his soda, meeting Tony’s eyes dead on. “What? Your Tower? That big, ugly building in the city?”

“That _what?_ ” Tony squawks.

* * *

It’s only later that night, in his apartment, that Steve realises he completely forgot about Edward. Steve had adamantly insisted that it would be wasteful for him to get a hotel room, and after a scrunch of his nose at Steve’s tiny Brooklyn apartment, Tony had decided there was no way they would both fit in it unless they shared a bed.

“No,” Steve had sternly said as Tony waggled his eyebrows teasingly. He is _not_ ready to share a bed with Tony Stark, and he refuses to entertain the thoughts wondering what it would feel like to reach out and hold him, to tuck Tony under his chin and just feel the warmth of a person against the hollowness of his chest.

All of a sudden, it hit Steve that he hasn’t truly touched a person in the month that he’s been awake in the future, and when Tony had reached out to take Steve’s phone, their fingers brushing, it took all of Steve’s army training to freeze and not hold on.

“You’ve got good taste, Cap,” Tony had smirked when he saw the StarkPhone, “although you’re due for an upgrade. National security and all that.”

Steve wonders if Tony was actually flirting with him – Steve is a disaster with women, but with men like Tony? He’s a catastrophe.

Fortunately, Steve hadn’t been given the chance to embarrass himself further, because after leaving his number in Steve’s phone, Tony had gone to a nearby hotel for the night.

And yet, the hollowness in Steve aches deeper, having been giving the sweet taste of touch and having it taken away so quickly.

Even now, Steve is itching to send a message to Tony.

It’s past one in the morning, and Tony must be asleep, so it would be useless to send a message, Steve tries to rationalise with his urges, sinking further into bed and scrolling mindlessly through the endless list of video recommendations in his phone.

He wants to click one of them, to let Tony’s voice fill the silence of the apartment that somehow feels even emptier than it had been yesterday, but the recordings now feel like a paltry substitute for the real Tony.

And it must say something, mustn’t it, that Steve only needs one day with Tony to fall even more for the man? There’s something electric and addicting to Tony’s crackling energy that forces life into the haze of Steve’s consciousness, and there’s a kindness to Tony’s eyes that remind Steve there’s still some good left in this world.

Eventually, Steve groans in frustration, closing the Youtube application and letting his thumb wander over to the mailbox icon, tapping on it to bring up his latest message with Edward. There hasn’t been any reply yet, and Steve supposes a message to the AI would be a close enough substitute to settle his wandering mind.

Rolling over to his side to make the typing easier, Steve starts drafting a short message, debating what to fill in the subject line. He could just leave it blank, but then would Edward’s systems bother to open the message?

From: [srogers@starkmail.com](mailto:srogers@starkmail.com)

To: [stark@starkindustries.org](mailto:stark@starkindustries.org)

Sent: Saturday, 11 May 2011 on 01:32

Subject: Checking Up

_Dear Edward,_

_I hope you are feeling better and your legal issues are solved. I met your creator today. He’s amazing, and I know he’s more than brilliant enough to fix your problems._

_Best,_

_Steve_

He doesn’t know what else to write, and so he hastily sends it before he can doubt himself even more.

As the little bubble pops up to inform him that the email’s been sent, Steve feels some of the worry lift off his shoulders.

Then, because he really has poor control over his impulses, he opens the text messaging app Tony taught him about earlier as they’d fought over the last donut, and he frowns at his meagre contact list.

Natasha’s name has been changed into ‘ _Triple Imposter_ ’ and Clint’s into ‘ _Legolas_ ’. On the very top of the list is ‘ _Hot Genius_ ’.

Laughing, Steve taps on that one. With only three contacts on his phone, it’s easy to tell who’s who, and Steve decides not to bother changing them back.

Tony will most likely mess with them again, anyway.

The screen changes and a keyboard appears. What does Steve write, though? Something simple, not too presumptuous or revealing, he supposes.

_~~I had a wonderful time~~ _

_~~I can’t wait for tomorrow~~ _

No, that would be too much, too soon, Steve thinks, groaning. It had been so easy to strike up conversation with Tony throughout the entire day. Why is it so hard to think of what to say, now?

_~~Hope that you got to your room safe~~ _

_Thank you for today._

That’s neutral enough, right? It doesn’t imply anything or expect anything more.

He hits send.

* * *

“Sir, you have a new message from an unknown number. Its electronic trace leads back to where you have recently marked Captain Rogers’ apartme _–_ ”

“What does it say?” Tony cuts over JARVIS, and the email page on his tablet morphs into the messaging app.

There, right on top of Pepper’s 99+ angry messages and Peter’s voice note, is a short ‘ _thank you for today_ ’ that sends his heart flip-flopping like a goddamn teenager even as the guilt weighs down his stomach.

He’d just read Steve’s latest email to ‘Edward’, and Tony _really_ doesn’t know what to do with the guilty pleasure that had rushed through him at knowing how impressed Steve was with him. Ridiculous, is what it is.

He’s not a teenager, he doesn’t get _crushes_.

He just falls deep and fast.

And that’s why he finds his hands flying unconsciously across the keyboard, writing and sending a message before he can think too much of it.

_My pleasure. Btw burned your shirt already_

He hasn’t actually done that. He’d taken the shirt to a dry cleaner with very stern delivery instructions.

Only after the two ticks appear to signal the delivery of the message does Tony wonder what Steve is doing up at this hour. Is he spending hours on end watching Tony’s videos? Does he have trouble sleeping?

Of course he does, Tony files the information away – Tony still has trouble sleeping with memories of Afghanistan, and for Steve, the Second World War had just ended a month ago.

It takes all of Tony’s restraint to not ask JARVIS to check on Steve, although he does ask JARVIS to passively monitor Steve’s search history for any signs of a downward spiral. For national safety, Tony tries to justify it to himself, it isn’t because he cares for Steve – he certainly does _not_ care too deeply for the man.

The … _typing_ that appears on top of the chat screen short circuits his thoughts, and for five minutes Tony waits increasingly nervous and expectant at what Steve’s reply might be, and then –

_Shame, I’d have loved to watch you take it off._

Tony finds a bubble of shocked laughter force its way past his lips, and a few seconds later, another two messages come in quick succession:

_Sorry, my phone AI activated autoreply and sent that._

_I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable._

Good god, Tony cackles.

The official name F.R.I.D.A.Y. had was Female Remote Intelligence Digital Assistant Youth, but nearly everyone in Stark R&D knew that her name _really_ stood for Female _Rebel_ Intelligence Digital Assistant Youth. Somehow, during the coding of her personality configuration based on JARVIS, Tony had forgotten to trim out the self-learning humour algorithm, and while some customers bemoaned her strong personality, many more had become attached to her quirks.

Tony grins to himself, shaking his head and sending two messages back to Steve:

_Her name’s FRIDAY, and why are you making your phone flirt with me for you?_

_And don’t worry, my pants are the only thing becoming uncomfortable_

The reply that Steve promptly sends is short, but Tony can hear the supressed laugh in the words, knowing exactly the shape of the small quirk that must be on Steve’s lips:

_Go to sleep, Tony_.

It _is_ approaching two in the morning, and if they’re going to do anything fun tomorrow before Tony has to leave for Malibu, then he better catch some rest. Still, he can’t stand not having the last word, so he types one last message, half joking and half because Tony thinks Steve should listen to himself:

_Only if you sleep with me_

Locking his tablet, Tony sighs and stands from the sofa, walking towards his bed and falling heavily into it, staring up at the ceiling.

He is so, _so_ much trouble.

It isn’t the best practice to ask out a man who’s very recently come out of a war and is missing seventy years’ worth of time, who is dealing with grief and loss while adjusting to new cultural norms and therefore must be in no mind to enter a relationship.

Maybe Tony should tone down his flirting – it’s his default mode, and Steve gives as good as he gets, but maybe it would help if Tony showed some restraint? And yet, Tony knows how bitter it is to have people change their behaviour because they think he’s fragile or feel sorry for his soiree in a cave.

In a few months or a year, perhaps, Tony will ask. For now, he’ll show Steve that the future is worth living in, that there’s more to life than fighting endless wars.

His thoughts finally resolved, Tony closes his eyes at last.

And when he does fall asleep, he sleeps with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scream with me at starklysteve.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more angsty than the other chapters, but I wanted to anchor the story somewhere and build something between the both of them. The next chapter is going to be purely indulgent and flirty

It’s been three weeks since Tony showed him the entire floor meant for him, and the unused vastness of it still makes Steve uncomfortable. Tony can’t spend every day with Steve – a general shareholder meeting he can’t avoid, filming his latest video with the bots, tinkering in the lab and what not. Part of Steve is grateful, because sometimes Tony sends his head reeling and he needs the time to adjust, absorb, calm down.

He spends hours on end learning about the future with JARVIS, and when he grows bored or anxious after sitting for too long, he’ll wander to the gym that Tony set up on his floor and punch until he breaks something.

Other times, Steve follows Tony down the elevator to the office or the labs overlooking the city, and he’ll take advantage of the sunlight to mindlessly move his pencil across the paper, and he’ll let Tony’s chatter wash over him, reminding him that he isn’t alone in the future if he doesn’t wish to be.

During one of those forays to the office floors, he nearly gets pepper sprayed for walking into the wrong room, and he learns quickly the reason behind Tony’s nickname for his whipsmart CEO. Much to Tony’s eternal chagrin, Steve and Pepper get along wonderfully well, and Steve began taking his lunches with Tony instead of alone on his floor.

He asks about Edward and Tony waves it off as one of the AIs in R&D that’s being upgraded, promising to show Steve the base code for their language learning matrix. Humbling is the only way to put it, and Tony had stiffened, eyes wide, when Steve had told him that as revolutionary as Howard had been, he doesn’t come anywhere close to the magic Tony makes with his bare hands.

Occasionally, Steve will go down and stroll out of the lobby, making friends with the young lady in the donut shop two blocks down from the tower, getting to know the street artists who Tony gives free reign to paint the base of the tower – and who now likely has art scholarships from Tony – and visiting places he’s missed, trying to find some semblance of closure.

Steve meets the grandson of the breadshop owner across Bucky’s apartment, and he learns that Peggy is living upstate with her niece. He doesn’t visit, not yet, not ready.

On days like those, Steve will go back to the Tower and bring food back, oscillating between familiar foods and foods Tony mentioned in passing. That one time Steve had come back with two boxes of store-bought sushi, Tony had thrown them down the radioactive disposal and nearly flown them both to Japan so Steve could get the proper experience. Steve hasn’t tried cooking yet, the supermarket being too daunting to try to decipher, and he’s learned quickly enough that Tony cannot be trusted to cook, so unless Pepper or Happy comes along, Steve tries his best to keep them well-fed with take outs.

When Tony discovers with horror that Steve’s been going around either walking or taking public transport, he had dragged Steve down to the basement holding Tony’s private garage and told Steve to choose one of the cars there.

Steve had been in the middle of thoroughly refusing when his eyes caught the modified Harley in the corner. The smooth curves of it, the size and sturdiness of its frame – Tony had slipped the keys into Steve’s hand and then it was Tony’s turn to vehemently refuse a joyride with Steve.

Surprisingly enough, Tony doesn’t go out much. Steve will check and hear strands of Tony’s conversations with his friends which lasts for hours, and Tony will spend longer hours in his lab. Those hours in between the darkness and the dawn, when Steve will toss and turn in bed and need a voice to fill in the silence, Steve will open Tony’s latest uploads, smiling at the phrases he remembers hearing Tony speak into the camera.

It feels wrong, to watch Tony when Steve is living in Tony’s space, but, one morning during breakfast, when Steve blurted out a question about Tony’s _MIT Bloopers_ , the brilliant smile Tony gives him and the hour long explanation about the toaster, the world’s first drone, and Rhodey’s air force uniform made Steve eager to watch more videos – just to see that delighted look in Tony’s eyes.

And then, Steve discovers the comments section.

* * *

“They’ve been there all along, Steve,” Tony tiredly pinches the bridge of his nose, the holograms – _holograms_ , Steve is still in awe – around them show the hundreds of messages Steve had written below Tony’s videos.

Steve crosses his arm on his chest. “Well, they shouldn’t _have_ been there in the first time.” He points to one particularly harsh line: _why is everyone even watching this shit? he’s a selfish war-profiteer who makes fun of people’s traumas, calls them hurtful nicknames, pokes fun at very serious things. he’s a liar._

“I don’t like bullies,” Steve refuses to be persuaded away from his crusade. “It’s a free country. They want to say those things? Then they better be ready for me to say some things back.”

Tony glares at him. “They are _trolls_ in the comments section, Steve. The best way to deal with them is to ignore them. Yes, sometimes they get to me, but I went through enough therapy and I keep going to therapy to help. And they help remind me never to become who I was before.”

It’s a valid enough point, but Steve isn’t satisfied. The point is that Tony shouldn’t have to deal with them. They are bullies through and through: yes, Tony often needs constructive criticism, but that isn’t the same with these spiteful words meant to hurt. “Doesn’t make what they’re doing right, though. Someone needs to teach them manners.”

“Yeah, but that someone doesn’t _have_ to be you, does it, Steve?” Tony throws his hands in the air. “They’ve started covering you on the Daily Bugle. You’re in their headlines: _Mystery Defender Sparks Storm in Stark’s Channel_.”

Yes, that had been unfortunate, but Steve was smart. His username on Youtube is simply steve1234, which lends the anonymity he needs. “They aren’t going to figure out who I am, Tony. According to JARVIS, more than one million two hundred ninety thousand people have been named Steve in the past two hundred years.”

“No. Nuh uh,” Tony waves his finger in Steve’s face, “you do not get to use my AI against me.” Then, more seriously, “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. You don’t even _know_ me.”

That hurts more than Steve wants to let it show, because does Tony really think so little of the friendship they’ve managed to build? Sure, Steve’s only known Tony for three weeks, and they’ve only just reached an equilibrium in their friendship, but Steve knows Tony’s favorite donut flavour, he knows who put the light in Tony’s chest and why sometimes he can hear a piano from the floor above.

He doesn’t have to know who Tony was. He cares about who Tony _is_.

“Do you really mean that?” Steve brings himself to ask, fearful of the answer, and Tony, as expected, deflects.

“Why does it matter, Cap?” Tony mutters. He does that – call people by nicknames – to hide how much he cares. Steve knows that, and the world should, too. It must be a rhetorical question, though, because Tony goes on, “I try my best, I really do, but as much as I try to, my empire _was_ built on blood, and I am guilty of what they accuse me of, sometimes.”

“You’re not – what was it,” Steve glances around at the holograms, “the devil’s spawn, Tony. And nobody deserves to be called that.”

The thing is, Tony thinks as he stares at Steve, the stern voice and sure expression, it has been years since anyone new had strolled into Tony’s life and believed with such certainty that Tony is intrinsically, undoubtedly _good_. And while both Tony’s unlicensed therapist (Bruce) and his professional therapist have helped Tony get over those thoughts, it’s getting harder and harder for Tony to bear Steve’s unwavering belief in him.

Because Tony has lied. He’s lied to Steve. And he’d laughed while he lied to Steve, relishing in making him believe in some fantasy AI. Had Tony known who he was emailing with, Tony wouldn’t have been so cruel or thoughtless with his jokes, but it doesn’t change the fact that Tony _has_ wronged Steve in a way that fits the spiteful words in the comments section.

There really is only one way to get Steve to understand, and that means Tony has to man up. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he tells Steve, “I lied to you.”

“What?” Steve incredulously throws the word at Tony, “yeah, you lie to me all the time about your eating schedule.”

Of course that would be where Steve’s mind would go. He has no reason to suspect, after all, that Tony is an AI. “No, about Edward.”

“I don’t see how that matters.”

“Edward doesn’t exist,” Tony admits heavily, staring at the tip of Steve’s nose, not daring to look into his eyes, “those emails were from me.”

“What?” Steve breathes out again, and this time it’s soft and confused. Steve doesn’t know what to think: had Tony just invited Steve to his home to watch him stumble and struggle with the future? Had Tony been secretly laughing and making fun of Steve all along? Fooling around with the idiot who knew nothing about technology? That couldn’t possibly be true, though, because Tony wouldn’t have spent three hours yesterday teaching Steve about the neurological interface of his suit if he wanted to keep Steve stumbling in the dark like a fool.

Tony wouldn’t have taught Steve how to filter results in online shops – how to get JARVIS to choose – when he discovered how the overfilled rows in the stores sent Steve’s head reeling. He wouldn’t have taken the time to set an alert for Steve’s nightmares, wouldn’t have suddenly just _been there_ at Steve’s floor with two warm cups of milk and a light in his chest to chase away the dark. Tony wouldn’t have done any of that if he taught all this was just a joke.

He looks at Tony – all the tells he’s been learning to spot in the past weeks, the corner of Tony’s lips, the small scrunch between his eyes, the clenched fists – and he knows he wasn’t wrong. It hurts, that Tony would lie to him, but right now, Tony was choosing to be truthful to Steve of his own accord, and that means something.

“Why did you lie to me, Tony?” Steve settles on asking, because, as he’s learned so many times in the past weeks, Tony Stark always has a reason.

There’s something fragile in Tony’s shocked eyes. “I – you aren’t _angry_? How can you not be angry?”

“I won’t lie that it hurts to learn that you’ve kept up the lie all this time, but I know you must have had a good reason. You don’t hurt because you want to. You’re not a bully.”

“Damn you, Rogers,” Tony grits out, walking away from Steve and out onto the balcony. “Why are you so fucking perfect?”

Steve steps beside Tony, slowly placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’m as perfect as you, Tony.”

It isn’t fair, Tony thinks, that he has to be the emotionally mature one here, that he has to keep his hands off of this wonderful, amazing man. Steve _gets_ Tony in a way very, very few people do, and he’s so sincere in his affection for Tony that it doesn’t help Tony’s heart.

“Pepper and I thought you were a stalker,” Tony relents, leaning slightly into the warmth of Steve’s steady touch.

“See?” Steve declares, the small not of triumph in his voice overshadowed by the kindness in his tone. Even hurt, Steve is pleased that Tony was willing to give the entire truth to him. “I was right.”

“Yeah, Sherlock,” Tony grumbles, pulling away to bat at Steve’s arm and finally meet his eyes. “Listen. I’m sorry I lied to you for weeks, and I’m grateful that you feel strongly enough to want to defend me.” He waits until Steve nods before he continues, “But Steve – Steve, if this is because you need something to fight, you need a purpose other than sitting around the Tower, then, let’s try to find something else for you to do, yeah?”

Swallowing hard, Steve nods, feeling far less sure of himself because how had Tony known? Not trusting himself to speak, he lets Tony’s voice wash over him, drifting away into the night air, the lights of the city shining bright beneath them, but brighter still is the light in Tony’s words.

“Maybe a Youtuber, you could start your own channel, Steve? Or if we want to keep you a secret, you could volunteer somewhere? The children will love you – or puppies? Are you into that sort of thing?” Tony snaps his fingers, “oh, Rhodey has a friend – Seb, Simon – Sam! I’ll give him a call and you can – ”

“Tony?” Steve cuts in as the tightness in his throat begins to ease, “thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Tony grins, his voice playful, but Steve sees the hard set of Tony’s eyes, and the softness in his smile, and Steve knows Tony means every word.

* * *

“Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi,” Tony marches into Steve’s floor, his arms full of large boxes that send Steve darting up from the couch to help him.

“I understood that reference, you know,” he puts his boxes down on the coffee table and bends to nudge the lid open. Behind him, there’s a loud thump and an indignant gasp.

“Are you _telling_ me,” Tony draws the word out, his hands on his hips, “that you watched Stars Wars _without_ me?”

Steve snorts. “That, or I’ve heard you call me that too many times.”

“Okay, Jar Jar Binks, I got you books. And paint supplies. Some yarn, too. There might be some do-it-yourself experiments for children and a fake jewel excavation kit where you can try digging for your own treasures.”

“What?”

There _is_ a lot of yarn in the box in front of Steve, with a crazy assortment of colors that sends Steve cross-eyed for a second. Tony’s rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, his arms twisted behind his back – a sign of nervousness Steve’s grown familiar with.

“I did some research. Apparently, soldiers used to knit in the war, and Howard always said the most ridiculous thing about you was that you’re an art school drop out – and, uh, I called Rhodey’s friend and he recommended a _lot_ of things veterans like to do – I thought you’d like to skip the pole dancing recommendation,” Tony clears his throat, eyes darting away from Steve, “and jump to something you’re interested in, like science. Hey, I should get Peter to come and – no, nevermind, that kid will blow up this place with you.”

When Tony goes a mile a minute, Steve often has trouble following, but Steve thinks he’s beginning to understand: Tony had done all of this to help Steve find a purpose, an anchor to the future, when all along Tony has become Steve’s anchor.

 _God_ , Steve realises, clarity flashing as he meets Tony’s hopeful, expectant eyes, _I’m in love with this man_.

“Are you trying to turn me into a housewife?” Steve teases to hide the jarring depth of his realisation, and it works to distract Tony from noticing.

“No, you’re a nonagenarian. I should get you a rocking chair and a kitten to go with your scarves,” he quips back at Steve, and Steve has half a mind to reply with a phrase he’s recently heard: _I could rock your world_. But it feels too close to his realisation, so he merely quirks his lip and checks the time on the clock hanging from the far wall.

“There’s a lot to unpack, here, so what about some lunch first?” Steve asks. _It’s not a date_ , he tells himself sternly, it’s two friends hanging out as they always do every day.

Except, as Tony easily nods and they leave the pile of boxes littering the room, Steve thinks that, all along, all their lunches and dinners might actually have been dates. Would Tony even be interested in Steve, though? Is Steve himself ready yet to put his past to a close and give Tony a fair relationship, one where Steve isn’t always comparing Tony with the endless _could haves_ and _would haves_?

When the elevator doors shut close, Steve realises this is the _worst_ time to panic.

He might have made a big mistake asking Tony out for lunch.

Or, it might just be the best decision in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have consulted with my friend in the ROTC and!! they actually sometimes recommend pole dancing as a sport to try because it is strenuous exercise and hmmm Tony has a lot of visuals about that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters the write. I hope it isn't too out of character?? Buckle in for some shenanigans involving our two hopeless oblivious men, their tired friends, and some youtube viewers :)

Everything is Steve’s fault. Tony will maintain that to his dying day.

With things settled once more between the two of them, Tony finds his creative faculties are in full force, inspiration coming easily for what next to make. Steve is largely responsible for that, his questions sparking ideas for what next to teach or share with his viewers. In the six months since the supersoldier moved into the Tower, Tony’s actually surprised that it didn’t happen sooner.

Here’s the thing: Steve chooses to stay entirely out of the video-making process for some convoluted reason Tony still doesn’t understand, and whatever friendship had formed between the two of them since that fateful day when Tony dumped boxes of mismatched items, it is weirdly domestic. Not that Tony doesn’t enjoy having someone to take care of him, but Tony can’t figure out if Steve is truly interest in something other than friendship, _and_ if enough time has passed for Steve to process his grief and feel ready to move on with his life.

Frustrating is what it is. Especially when Steve brings him perfectly glazed morning donuts with a perfectly sweet smile, or when Steve causally offers to fix one of Tony’s cars.

“How do you even know how to do this?” Tony had incredulously asked, desperately trying to fix his eyes anywhere that’s not Steve’s tank top.

“We were at war, Tony, we knew how to steal cars and fix them.”

And that had been very distracting to learn about. Somewhere in the top five with Steve and pole dancing.

Therefore, everything is Steve’s fault because the one thing Tony had forgotten in all his protocols was Steve.

Here’s another thing: Tony’s viewers are used to seeing Bruce or Rhodey or even Pepper puttering about in the background, and they’re around often enough in the lab that they’ve been part of a handful of Tony’s videos or livestreams. He even has a special Youtube playlist for his videos with each of them.

All Stark employees working in the Tower had been given a briefing and know to respect the giant _KEEP OUT_ sign permanently stuck on the glass doors of Tony’s lab – that is, if they ever managed to pass through elevator security and JARVIS’ watchful eye in the first place.

“So, that’s how Rhodey and I killed microeconomics,” Tony shakes his head at the memory of the professor’s face, scrolling through the livestream comments to search for the next lucky question. “Next, we have… oh, this is a good one from, uh, ririwill? What’s the worst thing Butterfinger’s done? Okay, buckle in. There was one time when a Senator – ”

“Tony?”

**_ririwill_ ** _OMG who is that???_

 **_beterbarker_ ** _DOES TONY HAVE A BOYFRIEND_

 **_beterbarker_ ** _WHY did you not tell us_

 **_angie333_ ** _hot damnnn_

 **_leedsneds_ ** _is that FOOD?? is the boyfriend bringing lunch???? i m soft_

 **_beterbarker_ ** _I NEED ANSWERS STAT_

“Steve,” Tony gulps, frantically waving the hologram screen away and flicking DUM-E’s camera off. He does _not_ need his viewers to badger him, especially when Steve is one of his viewers and will likely see their comments.

Steve’s taken a step back, lingering by the door, his hands raised in apology. “Sorry, didn’t realise you were recording.”

“No problem,” Tony tried his hardest to keep his voice from squeaking embarrassingly high, one hand still resting heavily on DUM-E’s camera, scared that it might start recording again by some freak of nature.

 _No one_ can know of Tony’s crush on Steve. He’d never hear the end of it if anybody found out.

Casting his eyes around the room for any distraction at all, Tony’s gaze lands on the bag hanging from Steve’s hand. He hadn’t noticed that before. “Is that takeout?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, taking careful steps to walk to the chair Tony’s sitting in. With his free hand, he scratches the back of his hair. “It’s past lunch time and you weren’t answering, so I went and bought something.”

Tony squints at the label printed on the bag, reaching up to grab it. “Is this stir fry chicken and dim sums?”

Now that he thinks of it, he _is_ hungry, even if he doesn’t quite feel like eating, his stomach in twists at trying to hide the horniness of his viewers for Steve (and his own, uh, attraction). Steve doesn’t deserve people coming onto him if he doesn’t want them to.

Steve nods, easily pulling over a table and a chair towards Tony, careful not to jostle any of the items strewn across the table. “If you want to continue recording, I can stay hidden or leave,” he offers, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched, as if trying to be smaller when all he’s managing to become is more adorable.

“Stay,” Tony’s mouth speaks before his brain can really process, and a small smile blooms on Steve’s lips as he finally sits down. Taking the bag back from Tony, he unpacks their lunch, evidently having taken the time to remember Tony’s favorite dishes.

“What were you filming?” Steve asks, passing a pair of chopsticks over to Tony.

A twinge of guilt passes through Tony at the thought of leaving his viewers so abruptly. He _is_ fond of them, and eternally grateful that they give him purpose and their time of day. It will also make it into some of the lesser headlines and gossip blogs that Youtuber Tony Stark left his Q&A livestream unceremoniously due to a mysterious stranger. Steve is more important, though, so Tony shrugs it off. “Was doing a livestream. They asked me questions, and I answered them.”

“Oh,” Steve frowns around his mouthful of fried rice, “does that mean they’re waiting for you to come back? I could leave?”

“No,” Tony quickly says, “well, yes. But you don’t have to leave.”

“Wouldn’t it be polite to at least say goodbye?” Steve insists.

God, sometimes Tony doesn’t understand Steve. One moment, Steve is the most insufferable man on the planet, through Tony’s sass right back at him, and the next moment, Steve is the perfect gentleman out of some fairytale. “Yes, but they aren’t being too, uh, polite about you.”

Steve’s eyes turn sharp. Oh _no_ , Tony thinks, wrong thing to say. They’ve both established that Steve doesn’t like bullies.

“What do you mean?”

Tony puts down his chopsticks, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not in a bad way. Just… you’re an attractive guy.”

“You think so?” Steve perks up, a faint flush on his cheeks. It must be from the chilli in the noodles, Tony concludes, trying not to deal with the messy answer to that question.

“Well, yes,” Tony’s traitorous mouth blurts out again, and he quickly adds, “everyone thinks so.”

Steve blinks. Rationally, he knows that he’s attractive, and he’s used to people ogling him over that attractiveness. But he isn’t used to knowing that Tony is attracted to him, that the yearning Steve feels for Tony’s presence might be reciprocated.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” Steve brings himself to say, because it is certainly not a problem if _Tony_ finds him attractive.

“Not a problem?” Tony blanches, “they think we’re _dating_ , Rogers. And seeing us _eat_ together will be putting fuel to the fire.”

When Tony gets flustered, in Steve’s entirely professional opinion, it’s highly adorable. The scrunch of his nose, the biting of his lips, the way he throws his hands in the air – everything about Tony is expressive, and Steve’s learned to read between the lines.

 _No one just gives away an entire floor of a tower, Steve_ , Sam had tried to knock some sense into Steve when he’d been asked about whether Tony might be interested in something other than a friendship. Steve hadn’t wanted to ruin whatever was between them, though, and Sam had been gentle in asking if Steve was ready to give a fair relationship to Tony, to live _now_ instead of in the past.

All at once, Steve realises that Tony won’t be the one to start anything further. He’s waiting for Steve – because no matter how much Tony likes to curse Steve’s manners, it’s Tony who was raised by a gentleman, and it’s Tony who really _is_ the perfect gentleman when he wants to be.

 _They think we’re dating_ , Steve rolls the words around in his mind, and he feels a grin spreading across his face. “Aren’t we already dating, Tony?”

Tony chokes. “ _What_?”

“I bring you lunch every day,” Steve tries to sound as calm as he can, hiding his amusement at Tony’s face, “you take me to museums and give me expensive gifts.”

“That’s – I buy everyone expensive gifts. I’m a billionaire. It’s in the job description,” Tony rambles, his mask slipping ever so slightly that Steve can hear the faint traces of hope in his voice.

Three days ago, Sam had called Tony a curious name, and Steve thinks now could be the right time to use it to break past Tony’s denial.

“Yeah,” Steve pretends to agree, “one might even call you my sugar daddy.”

Tony’s face turns _red_.

Steve didn’t know Tony was capable of blushing. Apparently, however, Tony does blush, and he does so very beautifully.

“Who – who _taught_ you that?” Tony stutters.

“Sam was tired of me talking endlessly about you,” Steve laughs, and then, more seriously but still with a smile, “he said if I’m ready to move on, I should just ask you out already.”

“Oh,” Tony looks away, because this, this is entirely out of left field. In the back of his mind, he had entertained the thought of inviting Steve to some fancy restaurant, or a quaint little diner, and over dinner and some liquid courage, Tony would be the one to ask Steve. Maybe in two or three months. Maybe in a year.

So this. This is unexpected, and Tony doesn’t know what to do with everything happening all at once. He hadn’t even been entirely sure that Steve was into men – he’d only been 99.999% sure, which left a one in a thousand chance that he was wrong and things would end up in disaster, and he wasn’t willing to risk Steve for even the smallest odds.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice cuts through Tony’s thoughts, uncertain and wary. “Did I read things wrong?”

 _No_. “No,” Tony manages to say, still attempting to compose himself. More to distract himself than anything, he asks, “have we really been dating all this time?”

Steve makes a questioning noise and reaches across the table to wrap on of his hands around Tony’s. “Maybe. But I’d be a happy fella if you’d let me take you out for a spin.”

Biting back against his smile, Tony snorts. “I’m not getting on your death bike, Rogers.”

“I’d keep you safe,” Steve promises, squeezing Tony’s hand and feeling a warmth when Tony squeezes back.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Tony laughs, unable to keep his smile back for any longer, “you’d get put in jail for punching a bully and _I’d_ be the one to bail you out.”

Steve doesn’t bother to deny that. “It’s your honor I’d be defending, darling.”

 _God_ , Tony thinks, he loves this crazy, crazy man.

* * *

They don’t kiss.

Frustratingly enough, they clean up the remnants of their lunch and Steve presses a kiss across the back of Tony’s hand, eyes dancing and promising to come back for dinner.

Tony doesn’t go back to his viewers. They can gossip however much they like – there’s a more pressing emergency at hand.

Usually, Tony would throw on whatever shirt his hand grabbed from inside the closet. He knows he looks good – he’s been _People’s Sexiest Man_ three years in a row – but this is a date with _Steve_. Should he wear a dress shirt? Or is Steve thinking more casual? If Steve is going to take Tony on the motorbike, would a leather jacket be fine?

Tony’s phone rings.

It’s thrown somewhere on Tony’s bed, so JARVIS lights up a hologram showing Peter’s caller ID. Yeah, no. Tony’s not answering the kid’s endless questions about that aborted livestream session. Actually, the kid could be helpful.

“Peter, Rhodey calls everything I wear ugly, so you’re up.”

“What? Mr Stark, who was that? Are you finally off the market? Do I get a step dad?”

Tony sighs. “Lots of classified government secrets, kid, but I need your help picking something to wear.”

“It _is_ a date,” Peter victoriously exclaims, his voice filling the room and making Tony groan. Peter laughs. “Can I at least get a name?”

“Steve. And that’s all you’re getting,” Tony mutters. He’s been meaning to get Peter and Steve to meet, but he doesn’t know how to explain Steve without leaking the fact that he’s Captain America. Not that he doesn’t trust the kid, it’s just that Peter has a horrible poker face and is rather hopeless with secrets and secret identities.

“But Mr Stark, how do I know what you should wear if I know nothing else?” Peter innocently points out, and no. Tony is not going there.

“You’re supposed to be a genius,” Tony challenges instead, “time to prove it, kid.”

* * *

Steve knows what he’ll wear: he’s had enough time to catalogue Tony’s reaction over his various outfits, and he remembers enough of Tony’s remarks to know which colors Tony likes best on Steve.

What he doesn’t know is where to take Tony out to. He could call Sam for advice, but Sam has a talk session scheduled at the VA today, and he’s certainly not going to ask Clint. Pepper _would_ answer despite her crowded schedule. Steve doesn’t want to be a bother, though, and JARVIS, as enlightening as he is, has no experience with romance.

That leaves Natasha.

Since a month after Steve left SHIELD’s clutches, they started having coffee together once every two weeks. She apologised for being part of the lies, and proposed forming a separate, independent taskforce of superhumans, free of the shadows of any organisation. While Steve hadn’t been too keen to go back to the battlefield, he agreed to the necessity, and their periodic meetings meant that Steve began to learn of the humanity behind her ruthlessness and the kindness behind her sharpness. They became friends, and Tony had whined about the betrayal and insisted on coming along to one of their dates.

Now that Steve thinks about it, Tony must have been jealous.

Natasha had, of course, seen right through Steve’s attraction to Tony, and she must have known that Tony was jealous.

Tapping on her contact in his phone, Steve lets the dial tone ring in his ear, pacing the entire length of his floor as he waits for her to answer.

“Steve, this better be good.”

“Are you busy?” Steve frowns, because he can hear the sound of bullets and a groan of pain. Was Natasha on a mission or just a simulation?

“No, Steve,” Natasha drawls out, “I liberate pirate ships for a hobby.”

Ah, okay. “I can call back. Stay safe – ” Steve tries to say, but Natasha stops him.

“They’re boring, Steve. Barely putting up a fight.” There’s the sound of what is suspiciously like bones cracking, and then, “this is about Tony, isn’t it? Did you ask him out? I need gossip, Steve.”

“Uh,” Steve starts awkwardly, “I did ask him out, but I can’t decide on where to bring him.”

A snort and a heavy thump later, Natasha answers, “thanks for winning me fifty bucks, Steve.”

“Not helping, Nat,” he sighs, sitting down on the couch and contemplating the emptiness of the floor. Will Tony eventually ask Steve to move in with him? Are they technically already living together? What time should Steve go up to Tony’s floor?

Natasha mutters something under her breath – most likely a curse – and when she speaks again, her voice is slightly breathless. “Finished my job. Now I can focus on you.” She pauses to yell orders at the other agents. “Tony’s used to grand gestures of wealth, but it’s the simple things that’ll really get to him. Things he’s never had the chance to try because of who he is. Sharing a cotton candy, winning a bear at the arcade, baking together, going to photobooths and just making faces – be as sappy as you want, Steve.”

“He complains when I’m a sap, though,” Steve tips his head back to stare at the grey ceiling, wondering what Tony’s doing right above him.

“He only says that because he doesn’t want you to find out that _he’s_ an even bigger sap.”

There’s actually some merit to Natasha’s words, and Steve rolls them around in his head. Winning a bear at the arcade – that’s not such a bad idea. He can already picture Tony being dwarfed by a giant teddy bear.

“Thank you, Nat,” Steve smiles, and he can see in his mind how Natasha must be rolling her eyes right now.

“I take payment in gossip,” she reminds him, “I better get every detail.”

“Including bedroom details?” he teases.

“ _Especially_ bedroom details, Steve, I’m not blind. I have an appreciation for beauty.”

And that, Steve thinks, is why they’re friends.

* * *

Tony keeps the bear in his lab.

He flew it up the Tower with his suit because it wouldn’t fit into the elevator.

Steve would be jealous of all the hugs and cuddles the bear got if Tony hadn’t hugged Steve so tightly and happily when he saw what Steve managed to win for him. He put is foot down when Tony had wanted to put the bear in their bedroom.

There is _no way_ Steve is sleeping with its giant eyes staring down at them.

Oh, and Tony forever lords it over Pepper that he found someone with an appreciation for giant stuffed animals.

Pepper simply rolls her eyes. “You both deserve each other.”

Tony sticks his tongue out at her and stands on a table to press a kiss on the bear’s cheek.

And then, he jumps down to plant a kiss on Steve’s lips, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: drama and angst coming up in the next chapters. 
> 
> Remember the saving the world part in the summary? And they've been too peaceful. I like the idea of them slotting together perfectly and just transitioning from "not knowing they were dating" to "knowing they're dating" because of their classic obliviousness paired with how well they know each other instinctively. But! Time to shake things up, don't you think? In the meantime come scream with me at starklysteve.tumblr.com if you want to :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all probably know how this all ends, but there'll be a few twists and turns there because I miss seeing them fight together (and sometimes with each other). Hope you all are safe an sane :)

“It’s been a year,” Steve breathes out. From the Tower’s helipad that Tony set up with a table and chairs for their date night, He can see the city lights blinking beautifully, the red taillights of cars moving idly through the streets, and the stars above them shining like bright pinpoints of hope. He can’t believe it’s only been a year since he first woke up to that Dodgers game in his ear and an entire lifetime lost.

He feels as if he’s spent lifetimes together with Tony – not all of it has been easy. They both have their fair share of nightmares, and sometimes Steve won’t be able to bring himself to talk to anyone, the pang of grief too heavy to bear. Therapy had helped, but they had fought fiercely when Tony tentatively suggested it after Steve spent ten sleepless nights in a row. Most of the time, though, it _is_ easy, their rough edges slotting perfectly as they learn to give and to take and to share.

When Steve had first woken up, he had thought he’d never find anything close to the life he’d had before, but Tony had given him a home. And a starting point to build something new, something of their own.

Across the table, Tony smiles, shifting his legs so their ankles knock against each other. He doesn’t say anything, knowing that Steve still has something left to say.

“Thank you, Tony. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

Luckily, the night isn’t too windy, and Tony can hear Steve’s words clearly. He struggles to find something to reply with, though, the depth of Steve’s sincerity still as frightening as it always was, and the way Steve looks in that blazer is very, _very_ distracting.

“Steve, it’s – ”

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupts, his voice speaking through Tony’s phone, “Agent Coulson of SHIELD is on the line.”

“I’m not in,” Tony dismisses, wanting to get back to enjoying the moment, but at Steve’s small laugh, he adds, “I’m _actually_ out.”

“Sir, I’m afraid he’s insisting.”

Shaking his head, Tony rolls his eyes. “Grow a spine, JARVIS. I got a date.”

“Yes, he does,” Steve agrees. He takes the bottle of champagne from the tray that Butterfingers is holding up and pours a generous amount into each of their glasses.

“This SHIELD snafu, this is all your fault, by the way,” Tony teases as he takes the glass from Steve, their fingers brushing. “You let the assassin twins in my private elevator.”

“Pepper’s elevator, you mean?” Steve shoots back, because he’s spent time reading the building’s lease. There was a better-left-unmentioned period when Steve had insisted on paying rent.

Tony makes a face. “Semantics. It still says Stark on the front. In the lobby, and,” he waggles an eyebrow, “in your pants.”

“As long as our next house says Rogers on the lease, I can deal with that,” Steve laughs, and Tony’s heart skips a beat. The way Steve so casually said _next house_ , as if he’s already planning years and years ahead, it sends shivers of warmth through Tony.

He doesn’t get to enjoy it for long, though, because JARVIS is speaking again. “Sir, the telephone. I’m afraid my protocols are being overridden.”

And then, Coulson’s voice comes through the loudspeaker of Tony’s phone. “Mr Stark, we need to talk.”

Groaning, Tony takes his phone out of his pocket, holding it at arm’s length over the table. “You have the reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark.”

“This is urgent.”

“Then leave it urgently,” Steve beats Tony to the punch, obviously trying his hardest not to laugh.

“Oh good,” Coulson sounds pleased rather than annoyed, “the Captain is with you.”

Through the glass doors that lead to the helipad, Tony squints to see the elevator doors slide open. “Security breach,” he announces, throwing his hands in the air before waggling a finger at Steve, who’s already standing up, “this is all your fault.”

Steve looks unimpressed. He holds out his hand expectantly, waiting until Tony takes it with a grumble. “Fine. But I get to decide what to do in bed tonight.”

“As if you don’t like following my orders in bed,” Steve winks and Tony blanches. They walk indoors together, where Coulson waits with a SHIELD tablet and a forced smile. 

“Official consultation hours are between 8 to 5 every other Thursday,” Tony greets the man. Coulson gives him a stern look, turning instead to Steve.

“Captain. It’s an honor to meet you,” Coulson holds out a hand for Steve to shake, and Steve lets go of Tony’s hand to do so.

Tony scowls, snatching the tablet from Agent’s hand, twirling it open. The symbol for the Avengers Initiative fills the screen before it morphs into the profiles of each member. At the very center: the Tesseract. “I thought I didn’t qualify,” Tony mutters, “and I’m not letting SHIELD near any of my tech.”

“We need _you_ , Mr Stark. The Tesseract’s been taken and we have trouble tracing it.”

Steve moves to stand behind Tony, trying to read whatever information they have. “What do you mean _taken_?” he sharply asks.

“An Asgardian god took it, Captain. Agent Barton was compromised,” Coulson explains. “We need _both_ of you.”

Tony only needs one glance at Steve to know what the answer is, and he sighs internally. He’d been looking forward to spending a night just celebrating and relaxing. Evidently and _literally_ , however, the gods think otherwise.

“I need to call a friend for this,” he announces, because while he _is_ a genius, he can’t do everything alone, and it’s high time Steve met the other crazy scientist in the family.

Coulson nods. “We know. He’s already en route to our helicarrier.”

Steve wraps an arm around Tony to turn him away from the tablet and towards Steve – Coulson pointedly clearing his throat and looking away – Tony can see the shadows in Steve’s eyes, as clearly as he can also see the conviction and regret there.

“Raincheck on that dance?” Steve suggests.

Tony takes Steve’s hand back into his and squeezes. “I’ll be waiting.”

* * *

“Doctor Banner,” Steve greets, and Bruce glances between Steve and Tony, frowning for a second before smiling ruefully. Tony winks. Bruce sighs.

“They told me you were coming, Captain – no, Tony,” Bruce chides, doing nothing to stop Tony’s playful grin, “have you been treating Tony well?”

Steve takes Bruce’s outstretched hand. “I try my best. Word is you can help Tony find the Tesseract?”

“Is that the only word you’ve heard of me?”

“That,” Steve admits, “and how loudly you snore when you sleep.”

Bruce laughs.

* * *

They bring Loki in. They don’t find Clint, but they find Thor.

They don’t find the Tesseract either.

* * *

“You should go back to the Tower with Bruce,” Steve walks into the helicarrier’s lab. His stance is firm, and he’s determined to keep Tony safe. If Loki is on this ship, there’s always a chance he could break out, and therefore a chance that Tony could get hurt.

He also wants Tony far, far away from the sceptre.

Tony, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to see it from Steve’s perspective. “Relax, dear. We’ll be fine.” He pokes Bruce’s arm with an electric stick, “I have big green here to protect me.”

“Take a jet. Fly back home. You can run the tracing algorithms with JARVIS’ servers,” wearily Steve tells Tony. Getting into a fight with a thunder god had not been on Steve’s agenda today, and despite his accelerated healing, he’s sore and tired and scared for Tony. “You’re a civilian. This shouldn’t be your fight.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony steps around the table to stand in front of Steve, crossing his arms across his chest and covering the light spilling out from the reactor under his shirt. “Are you calling me weak? Are you seriously thinking I’d leave you? Just because I don’t have some magic serum in me, doesn’t mean I can’t defend myself.”

That is miles away from Steve’s point. He knows Tony is the opposite of weak. He simply doesn’t want Tony anywhere near the center of this fight. “I know that, Tony, but – what’s that?” he points at the screen in next to Tony that’s certainly not showing the Tesseract.

“That’s my decryption for SHIELD’s files. I hacked into their mainframe,” Tony spins the screen around so they can both see it better. Behind it, Bruce is peeking at them from under his classes, obviously trying very hard to avoid the confrontation.

Steve takes a deep breath. It doesn’t work to calm him down. “Can you _stop_ your vendetta against SHIELD for one moment, Tony? Find the Tesseract and get _out_ of here as fast as you can.”

“This is running together with the tracking algorithm, Steve,” Tony spreads his arms wide, as if that explains anything. “In a few minutes we’ll find the Cube _and_ know every dirty little secret in this place.”

“We don’t need a distraction. Not right now, Tony,” Steve barely stops himself from growling. Why is he angry all of a sudden? He’s never been this annoyed by any of Tony’s antics, and yet, for some inexplicable reason, he feels the need to lash out and drill into Tony that he’s wrong about this. “I trust SHIELD as much as you, but this is _not_ the time to try and stop their efforts to save the world.”

“Yeah, and what about the fact that the only reason the world needs saving is because they were the ones to do the destruction?” Tony challenges. From the corner of Steve’s eye, he sees the sceptre glow brighter.

Is this why Tony’s doing this? Because of some trauma and regret that he’s never managed to get over? Steve thought Tony was better than this, that Tony cared more about the lives at stake. “Not everything’s about you, Tony,” he lashes out, because why doesn’t Tony understand? There’s only one important thing right now, and it’s to get Tony off the ship. “You – ”

“ _Boys_.”

The door slides open, Natasha walking in, Fury and Thor behind her. “What are you doing, Mr Stark?” Fury glares, one hand on his hip.

“Kind of been wondering the same thing about you.”

“You’re supposed to be locating the Tesseract,” Fury sternly reprimands. For once, Steve agrees with Fury, but, as they so often do, the words bounce off Tony.

Surprisingly, it’s Bruce who speaks up, Tony growing increasingly smug with every word from Bruce. “We are. The model’s locked. We’re sweeping for the signatures now. When we get a hit, we’ll have the location within half a mile.”

“Yeah. Then you get your Cube back. No muss, no fuss,” Tony glibly dismisses. The screen next to Steve and Tony lights up red. “What _is_ Phase Two?”

It doesn’t take a certified genius to figure out the blueprints that are now spread across the screen. “Phase Two is SHIELD uses the Tesseract to make their own weapons,” Steve concludes for them all, feeling a dread grow.

Tony throws his hands in the air. “ _Now_ you’re on board with me, honey?”

“Rogers,” Fury stops them before they can bicker any further, “we gathered everything related to the Tesseract, this does not mean that we’re making – ”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” Tony brings up one of the designs, pulling the screen around for everyone to see, “what were you lying?”

“Did you know about this?” Bruce steps forward, voice dangerous.

Natasha breaks her silence. “Do you want to think about removing yourself from this environment, Doctor?”

“Oh,” Bruce laughs, and if Steve hadn’t known, he knows now why Tony considers Bruce a friend. “I was in Calcutta. I was pretty well removed.”

“Loki’s manipulating you.”

Bruce smiles, cruel and sharp. “And you’ve been doing what, exactly?”

There’s something wrong in the air, Steve realises, Bruce’s words fading in the background as he tries to understand. Thor is speaking now, about higher forms of war, and Steve’s head is throbbing, his anger churning with his worry, and everything’s too loud and –

“Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam?” he hears Tony throw at Fury.

 _No_ , Steve thinks. This stops now. “Back off, Tony. Stop trying to be a hero, and _go home_.”

“A hero?” Tony spits back at him, “like you? Everything special about you came out of a bottle.”

Steve turns to really look at Tony. They argue a lot – but it’s always been more bickering than a fight, never like this. The gentle fondness that had been in Tony’s eyes last night is gone, replaced with a bitter coldness that twists something deep in Steve. Everyone else is shouting around them, voices rising even as the throbbing in Steve’s head grows.

“Big suit of armor,” he can’t stop the words from spilling out, its meaning twisted into the opposite of what he wants to say, “take that off and what are you, Tony?”

“Genius, billionaire, philanthropist. I’d add boyfriend, but I’m really not feeling it, _dear_ ,” Tony hisses, smacking at Steve’s arm. They stare at each other, tension crackling, their shoulders tight and defensive.

Somewhere beside them, Thor scoffs. “You humans are petty, and tiny.”

“Sorry kids, you don’t get to see my party trick after all,” Bruce puts down the sceptre as the computer at the other side of the lab beeps, triangulating the location they need. The rough coordinates appear, and –

“I can get there fastest,” Tony says above the din of everyone else.

Steve grabs his arm, tight and firm. “You’re not going alone.”

“You gonna stop me?”

“Put on the suit and let’s find out,” Steve challenges right back, wanting more than anything to have Tony protected. Tony is a civilian, this shouldn’t be his fight.

“I’m not afraid to fight an old man.”

The words sting more than Steve wants to admit.

“Put on the suit.”

* * *

And then, an explosion hits them.

* * *

Steve curls himself around Tony, throwing them away from the blast, and they land heavily on their sides, their breaths panting and eyes wide. Somewhere past the broken window, the Hulk roars, angry and violent.

By some unspoken truce, they nod at each other and shelve their argument, helping each other to their feet.

“Put on the suit,” Steve orders, his tongue curling at the taste of those words, so different from how he’d said it seconds ago.

“I made one for you, too,” Tony nods again, factual and all business. At Steve’s confused look, he adds wryly, “I’m not letting you fight your battles in _spandex_ , Steve, no matter how lovely your ass looks.”

Just like that, the two of them slot back into place, Steve knowing exactly what Tony means, even if he doesn’t quite understand. It’s jarring, how quickly they lost their footing and found it again, but Steve’s too preoccupied with the fact that despite having been thrown by the explosion, the throbbing in his head is gone.

Letting Tony lead, he follows behind.

Already, the bitterness from their fight is fading away, and in its wake, Steve wonders when exactly it was that Tony found the time to design an entire uniform for him.

There’s one thing that Steve understands, though, and he says it to make Tony smile. “You probably made a suit that frames my ass better.”

“You betcha, Cap,” Tony grins over his shoulder.

Letting some of the tension slide off his own shoulders, Steve lengthens his strides to walk next to Tony.

There will be time for apologies later.

For now, they have an engine to fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's going to be soft, I promise :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a shorter one this time! But a lot of feelings so, get ready :D  
> P.S. kudos to any of you who noticed a quote from a tv show that just really fitted Steve and Tony

The engine is too shredded for Tony to be able to simply remove the debris. He needs to do more, and, with the suit on, he gets JARVIS to connect to the comms he’d given Steve.

“This thing won’t re-engage without a jump. I’m going to have to get in there and push.”

“If that thing gets up to speed,” he can hear the disapproval in Steve’s voice, “you’ll get shredded.”

“There’s a reason I built this suit, Steve,” Tony sighs. If his boyfriend could lay off with the protectiveness for a moment, that would be wonderful. Contrary to popular belief, Tony knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t have a death wish. “That stator control unit can reverse the polarity long enough – ”

“Save the science lessons for the camera,” Steve shouts.

Rolling his eyes, Tony jumps in between the blades of the rotor. “See that red lever? Stand by it. Wait for my word.”

Instead of a reply, the sound of gunshots comes from the other end of the comms, distracting Tony briefly from his task. He designed Steve’s new uniform to protect him from more than petty bullets, but it remains a concern to Tony’s less rational mind.

“Are you done?” Steve’s voice crackles back into Tony’s ear, the sound of bullets pausing for a second.

He gets back to work. “Half a moment.”

“Who’s the old man, now?” comes the teasing reply. It’s followed by a pained grunt and a scream that’s definitely not Steve’s. Tony’s checked: Steve cannot scream at such a high pitch, even when frightened.

To save time, Tony keeps silent, clearing the rotors as best as he can and pushing against them to get them spinning again. Another hail of bullets ring through the comms. Tony calculates a 99.73% chance that Steve will handle them just fine.

The blades of the engine spin faster and faster, the suit racing to keep up with it, the numbers on the HUD climbing to where Tony needs them to be.

“Cap, hit the lever.”

“I need a minute here!”

“Lever,” Tony gasps as he slams back against one of the blades, “now!”

 _Is Steve alright?_ he has a second to think before he gets swallowed under by the spinning blades, tumbling, and tumbling until –

The blades slow down enough to let Tony fall through, down into the open air and free to fly away. His HUD lights up, JARVIS knowing exactly what Tony’s trying to find, coming closer and closer to the sound of bullets and –

Barrelling at full speed into the agent daring to shoot at Steve, Tony crash lands on the broken edges of the deck. The lights of his HUD flicker out, wires too heavily damaged by having nearly been shredded.

His back is sore, his head is ringing.

On the ledge above him, still hanging on to the red lever, is Steve.

He’s smiling bright, relieved.

Tony hefts himself up, armor and all, and walks away.

* * *

They learn that Loki’s escaped.

Thor is gone and the Hulk is missing, likely on a rampage through some unfortunate city. Coulson is in critical condition in the medbay. The only silver lining is that Natasha managed to do some cognitive recalibration on Clint, but they are both still stuck in the medbay, tending to their scratches.

“There was an idea,” Fury explains, tired and heavy, “to bring together a group of remarkable people.”

Steve picks up one of the blood-stained trading cards strewn across the table, turning it around to see his own face staring back at him, with that old shield and the winged helmet.

 _Not a perfect soldier, but a good man_ , he hears the echo of Erskine’s voice. The card is smooth under his fingers, obviously taken care of and kept safe, with all the faith Coulson had in Steve.

Steve had failed them: the team, the world, everyone.

And he had failed one man above all else.

* * *

He gets up to find Tony.

* * *

“Come to tell your useless boyfriend to go home?” he mutters when Steve finally finds him.

“No, it was wrong of me, and cruel of me to say. I don’t know why I said it.”

“Probably the sceptre,” Tony rubs a hand over his face, still looking over the gaping hole where Loki’s cage was. From him, it’s an invitation, and Steve holds on to it gratefully.

“I’m scared,” Steve admits, his voice quiet because he knows it will crack if he speaks any louder, “I pushed you away because I want you to leave, to go far, far away from here, and I’m sorry for that.” He takes a step closer to Tony, and then another, trying to find the courage to say his next words.

Fighting HYDRA is something, but fighting aliens and gods from other dimensions with Tony in the balance? Steve dreads it. Still, it isn’t an excuse, only an explanation, and he doesn’t want to lose this, doesn’t want the practiced blankness of Tony’s face, so Steve explains the last thing he knows – the truest thing he knows. “I fell in love with a brave, wonderful, brilliant man, and was so very lucky to have him love me back. It was foolish to throw all that away because I was scared.”

Their shoulders brush as Steve finally reaches the railing and stands next to Tony. Tony doesn’t turn to Steve, but he also doesn’t push him away. There’s a tension in Tony’s arms which sends an ache through Steve, knowing that he is partly at fault for it.

“We are _not_ soldiers,” Tony breathes out, vehement and with a lingering anger.

Steve shakes his head. “I might be one, but I fell in love with a dreamer. Who also happens to be the bravest, strongest man I know.”

“A failure,” Tony says under his breath, “I couldn’t trace the Tesseract fast enough, and now Loki – ”

“Hush,” Steve chides, bringing an arm around Tony’s waist and turning him away from the abyss to face Steve, “you did everything you could, and I did more than enough to slow you down. _I’m_ the one who should be sorry.”

“It’s not _your_ fault,” Tony argues back, and then, more gently, “this is bigger than you, than me. I’m the only one around who can fly the suit – I just – ” he breaks off, swallowing before he continues, “I know what I have to do, Steve. And I know in my heart that it’s right.”

There isn’t much that Steve can say which wouldn’t be hypocritical. He thinks he understands, now, the frustration Bucky had felt all those years ago when Steve, all ninety-something pounds, had been adamant to fight.

Steve can only ask one question, which he knows might not even get a truthful answer. “Are you ready?”

Tony doesn’t answer straight away, the lines on his face tight and tense. “Yes,” he eventually tells Steve, and it’s as true as he can make it sound. No one is ever ready for a war, much less an alien invasion.

“Okay,” Steve relents. He doesn’t want Tony to go risking his life, but really, what can he do to stop Tony? It’s painfully true that they need him – his wits, his skills, and his firepower – and the faster Steve accepts that, the faster he can move on to thinking of a strategy to keep them all safe.

“Okay?” Tony asks, uncertain, not quite believing it.

“For what it’s worth,” Steve tries to apologise one more time, “I’m sorry for making you think – ”

“Again, it’s the sceptre’s fault,” Tony brushes it off once more, “and don’t forget Loki. Loki’s an asshole who wants a monument with his name plastered to the sky, a bright light for all humanity _bullshit_ , he’s just an intergalactic dick who – fucking _hell_ – Stark Tower – ”

Their eyes meet.

Steve taps into the comm in his ear, “Fury, Loki’s going to Stark Tower, we need transport now.”

“Take a Quinjet from the hangar, Captain. Agent Romanoff can pilot.”

Steve doesn’t bother to answer. Tony nods, eyes sure and full of fire. “I can get to the Tower faster than a Quinjet with my suit.” It goes unsaid that at the speeds Tony is planning to fly, there’s no safe way to bring Steve with him.

He’s walking away again and Steve frantically grabs his wrist. Tony stops. His face unreadable. There’s too much that needs to be said, too much that Steve can’t leave unspoken, but they’re running out of time.

In the end, Steve settles on the most important thing, “I trust you, Tony. Just – be careful, _please_. Wait for us, and don’t you _dare_ die.”

“I’ll wait for you to catch up, old man,” Tony smiles. Away from the sceptre, away from his fears and doubts, the nickname no longer stings, soft and gentle as it sounds from Tony’s lips. Steve returns the smile.

Colonel Phillips had told them all, once, to never go into the battlefield with things unsaid. Regrets can break even the best man. Steve knows better than anyone about waiting too long, about wishing, and wishing and messing everything up.

He wants to do this right. So, before he lets go of Tony, he pulls him in, cupping a hand gently on Tony’s cheek, thumb brushing along the neatly trimmed stubble there. Tony reaches up to hold his own hand against Steve’s, the tightness of his grip betraying his worry and desperation.

Steve kisses him, soft and full of promise.

“Let’s go save the world, darling.”

“It’s a date.”

And Steve knows he’s forgiven.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, sorry for ending the chapter where it ends, but hopefully you can tell where it goes because the next two chapters are very very indulgent. Second, hope you all are safe and sane, and third, enjoy :)

Tony lands easily on the specially-built landing pad that takes off his ruined suit as he walks, Loki prowling the balcony beneath him. The outdoor table from last night has been cleared away, presumably on Pepper’s orders to clean up the forgotten remnants of his date night with Steve.

The absence of it makes the absence of Steve by his side seem more hollow, and Tony shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He should focus on Loki. Steve can take care of himself.

 _Wait for us_ , the words ring in Tony’s head. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to stall a murderous god, but he _has_ had enough practice dealing with rich, entitled pricks, so he goes behind the bar to pour two fingers of scotch into a glass.

He’s called the military guard, activated emergency evacuation procedures, and made sure Pepper and Peter are safe. Now, he just has to buy time to make sure they get clear of the city before whatever Loki’s planning descends on them all.

“We have a Hulk,” he spreads his arms wide. Riling up a god might not be the best strategy, and Steve would have a lot to say if he knew of Tony’s plans. Still, it’s a strategy that _works_.

“How will your friends have time for me when they’re so busy fighting _you_?” Loki raises his sceptre, grin wide and cruel.

 _Please no_ , Tony has a second to beg whoever might be listening. His mind flashes with a thousand different possibilities, would Steve be able to break through the suit? He’s strong, but is he strong enough to stop Tony from killing hundreds of people, to stop Tony from killing _him?_

The tip of the sceptre clinks against the glass of Tony’s reactor.

Tony holds his breath.

It clinks a second time.

He wants to laugh. Maybe he’ll start believing in God again – or maybe in gods.

“Performance issues,” Tony starts to say, “not that uncommon.”

* * *

He gets thrown out his own window.

* * *

“Wherever you are, I’d appreciate some company right about now, honey,” Tony stares at the darkness opening above his Tower. Any other day, he would be on the edge of his seat to learn the science, the magic behind it. Now isn’t the time, though, and he pushes back against the fear and dread pooling deep in his stomach.

There’s a chance none of them will make it out of this alive, and if Steve doesn’t arrive quickly enough, Tony at least wants to hear his voice one last time.

“What’s happening there, Tony?”

Something falls – no, flies out from the portal, a ship of some sorts, and more follow. “Remember when Loki said army?” he puts more power to his repulsors, aiming at one of the grey creatures, “he meant space army.”

Natasha’s voice comes in. “Stark, we’re on your three, headed northeast.”

“What? Did you stop for drive through?” he twists mid-flight between two buildings, shaking off some of the aliens tailing him and blasting the rest down.

He can almost see Steve’s eye roll. When Steve speaks, it’s full of a fondness that lends Tony some courage.

“Burgers later. Bring them to us, and keep your distance.”

“Roger that, Rogers.”

* * *

Steve looks at his team, at the endless stream of Chitauri pouring in from high above the Tower – his home, there’s a disconnect in his mind that just yesterday, he’d been gazing at the stars from that very same roof – and beside him, the sound of repulsors as Tony lands.

A brief glance tells him all he needs to know: the armor’s paint has been scratched off in many places, soot and ash dulling its bright colors, but there are no dents, which means Tony must be as fine as anyone can be in mid-battle.

Tony’s presence helps Steve focus. He gives Steve hope that they can win. That maybe, together, they can do this.

“Clint,” Steve orders, “I want you on that roof. Eyes on everything. Thor, you got the lightning: light the bastards up.”

Thor nods, offering a lift up for Clint, who takes his hand readily. Steve watches them go for a second before he turns back to Tony and Natasha. With the faceplate closed, he can’t see Tony properly, which frustrates him even as his mind chides that now is no time for his heart.

“Tony, you’ve got the perimeter. Anything goes more than three blocks out, you turn it back or turn it to ash.”

“Aye, Captain,” Tony salutes him, cheerful enough to bring some light back into Steve.

* * *

When he flies off, Steve spends far more than a second watching the red and gold blur streak across the skies, beautiful and deadly and perfect.

The only thing that pulls Steve’s gaze back to the ground is the sound of Natasha’s bullets ringing through the air and the thumping of falling bodies.

He buckles his shield tighter.

* * *

“I can close the portal. Does anybody copy?” Natasha’s voice crackles over the comms, and Steve slams his shield into the neck of a Chitauri footsoldier.

“Do it.”

“No, wait,” Tony shouts, and Steve doesn’t – _cannot_ – spare the time to worry.

“Tony, these things are still coming.”

“There’s a nuke coming in,” Tony says, too calm and too brave over the blast of his repulsors, “it’s gonna blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it.”

Steve’s heart plummets. “That’s a one way trip.”

“I’ll see you when I get back, Steve.”

“Come back here,” he tries to stop Tony, his voice breaking at the end. “There has to be another way.” But even as he says it, he realises there _is_ no other way. Tony must have calculated all the odds, exhausted all the possibilities and came to this one, unerring conclusion. _My math is never wrong_ , is a line Tony often says in his videos, and Steve hates it now more than anything he’s ever hated before.

“You ever tried shawarma? I saw a place three blocks down,” Tony asks, ignoring Steve’s pleading altogether.

And the thing is, Steve knows this part. Knows what it feels like to stare death in the face and want some hope about what comes next after the darkness.

He struggles to keep the tears back, to keep his voice steady and strong for Tony to hold on to. “I’ll take you. Flowers and a suit and a dance.”

“Tonight at eight?”

Tony’s speeding up higher and higher until Steve can barely see him.

“Just be there,” Steve pleads and prays and begs to all the gods he’s lost faith in.

“Steve, I – ”

“Tony?” he calls out, pressing a hand into his comms and trying to find any hint that Tony’s still there on the other end, even just the sound of his breaths would be enough, would be hope beyond hope. “ _Tony?_ ”

“Cap,” Clint’s voice comes through the comms, gentle and harsh all at once, “we’ve got to close it.”

“No. One more second,” Steve begs, staring straight up at the looming blackness, not daring to close his eyes in case he misses something – _anything_.

If anyone can come back from that, Tony can. He has to believe it. Because the alternative would be –

“It’s your call,” Natasha kindly says.

There aren’t any more Chitauri coming down, and the Hulk is tearing down those left on the ground. They can afford to wait, Steve thinks. It’s selfish, but maybe one more second is what Tony needs to come back.

He can’t bring himself to be the one to deliver Tony’s death sentence. To be the one cutting off his only connection to Tony, and Thor must see the conflict in Steve because he places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and offers, “Captain, I can say the order if you need me to.”

 _No_ , Steve thinks, this is his responsibility, his burden to bear. This is him sealing Tony’s legacy – Earth’s best and bravest defender.

Steve takes one last look at the stars that will be Tony’s final resting place, and a part of him is grateful that while Tony is alone, he will at least not be in the dark.

_I’m sorry_ , Steve lets his tears spill.

_I love you, darling_.

“Close it.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was honestly one of my favorite chapters to write. It's shorter than usual, but I hope you guys enjoy it :)

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Tony jerks awake, head groggy but pushing past it because, _god_ , Steve is staring down at him and that means he’s okay, the nuke’s gone, the aliens are dead. Everyone’s alive. They’ll live another day, to see tomorrow, and Tony – he can’t help but grin at his boyfriend, “I have a date.”

Steve wants to yell at him, he wants to shake Tony and tell him not to ever do that again, he wants to cry, to hug Tony and never, ever let go, but he can’t move, the relief of hearing Tony hitting him so forcefully he’s frozen to the spot.

“I kissed you,” Steve brings himself to say. _God_ , the city is in shambles and there’s a cut on Tony’s forehead, and Steve thinks he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

Tony grin turns soft. “Oh. Good. Do it again.”

Steve does.

Once, twice, thrice, four times.

He would have done it a fifth time if Natasha hadn’t cleared her throat through the comms and pointed out that while the Chitauri are gone, they still have a Loki problem.

“And shawarma after?” Tony asks hopefully, in it a question of whether Steve’s forgiven Tony’s choice to go through the portal.

Sometimes, his boyfriend can be ridiculously thick – Steve would forgive Tony anything as long as Tony’s alive, and it was never really Tony’s fault in the first place.

The World Security Council is going to get a long, overdue talk from Steve soon, but for now, Steve nods, standing up and offering a hand to help lift Tony and his armor up too.

“It’s a date,” he promises.

Tony smiles.

And Steve steps forward, standing on Tony’s boots and latching on. “Head up to the Tower,” Steve tells Clint, Thor, and the Hulk, “find your own ride.”

This time, when they fly together, Steve tucks his head against Tony’s neck, relishing every second, treasuring the feel of Tony’s pulse against his cheek, proof that he’s _here_ , alive and warm and very much Steve’s.

* * *

They put Loki in chains. They send him back to Asgard, but not before what ends up being a team dinner at the half-demolished shawarma place three blocks down from the Tower.

The poor owner nearly faints when the six fully-costumed Avengers trudge through the broken windows, and if he gets a massive business grant two days later in the name of reconstruction aid, it’s simply pure coincidence.

Neither Steve nor Tony begrudge the team for crashing in on their date – saving the world together is a bonding experience, after all – and they’re too busy being grateful that they’re both alive to care too much.

To everyone’s chagrin and amusement, the cut on Tony’s forehead is covered with a Captain America band aid, the little red, white and blue shields cheerfully staring back at them.

“I’ll consider your offer to move in to the Tower,” Bruce chimes in around his mouthful of food, “under one condition.”

“And what’s that?” Tony asks.

Bruce sends him a look full of warning. “That you put up soundproof floors.”

“And walls,” Natasha adds.

Clint nods. “And vents.”

Thor glances around with a frown, chugging down a mug of beer. “Do you not find joy in knowing the passion between your friends? They are both beautiful men to watch.”

Steve sighs as he meets the look that Tony gives him. “No,” he sternly orders, “we are _not_ filming a sex tape.”

“I hate to tell you, dear,” Tony bats his lashes at Steve, “but JARVIS’ cameras record everything, _everywhere_.”

“ _Men_ ,” Natasha mutters.

* * *

“Mr Stark – are you – is the Steve you’re dating – is he – ”

“Calm down, kid,” Tony grins, moving the video call to one of his holoscreens so he can better enjoy Peter’s shock. The kid’s obviously buzzing with energy, hair a tangled mess, Legos strewn about on the bed behind him.

It gives Tony peace of mind that Peter’s alright, and his aunt’s apartment undamaged.

“Are you _dating Captain_ _America_?”

“Sure am.”

Peter lets out something between a squeal and a squawk. Then, with an awe-filled whisper, he leans into the camera. “Captain America’s _not_ straight?”

Tony laughs. “I checked thoroughly last night.”

“Ugh, gross, Mr Stark, I don’t want to know about _that_.”

“Teenagers,” Tony shakes his head ruefully, “I wasn’t referring to anything.”

Wisely, Peter chooses to ignore him. “Can I meet Steve now? I mean, you must be busy, but could I – may I – ”

Tony stops him again before he can ramble on and on. “Kid. Of course you can. But you gotta answer one question first.” When Peter nods eagerly, Tony goes on. “Who’s your favorite Avenger?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Peter pretends to think, smirking into the camera. “I have to say Thor.”

“Traitor,” Tony hisses, but he can’t stop himself from laughing, “I’m disowning you.”

“Too late, Mr Stark, we’re connected.”

Tony realises – too late indeed – that Peter’s genius and budding talent for sarcasm might mix _too_ well with Steve’s tendency to break laws and drive Tony insane. They both have that ability to widen their eyes innocently to escape trouble, and to hide their role in creating said trouble.

 _Wow_ , Tony can’t wait for them to meet.

* * *

The government offers to give all the Avengers a Presidential Medal of Honor. Tony rolls his eyes, knowing that it’s a shoddy attempt at glamour to try and stop Steve’s warpath against them for sending a nuke against the city.

Steve ignored a Medal of Honor once during the war. It isn’t any hardship for him to ignore this one, too, and when Senator Stern attempts to reach out to the team through Tony, he puts the man on loudspeaker and winks at Steve.

“Yes, Senator,” Tony pretends to agree, “I _do_ know that I’m a national treasure.”

“That’s, uh, not exactly what I meant, Mr Stark, but it would be wonderful if the Avengers could – ”

Tony cuts in, unable to bear the Senator’s voice any longer than necessary. “Yeah, I think we _are_ at a misunderstanding here. When I said national treasure, I meant I’m Captain America’s treasure. And he’s _definitely_ got better ways to claim me than a Medal of Honor.”

“Mr Stark – that’s – are you implying – ”

“Have a good day, Senator. If you call again, I’ll leave you on hold,” Tony grins as Steve does his best to muffle his laugh, “I like watching the line blink.”

* * *

Steve _does_ claim Tony that night.

Very, very thoroughly.

* * *

They do get their dance.

Steve comes down to Tony’s lab with a stereo box and drags him out to the helipad, stepping past the half-rebuilt glass doors and towards a dinner table teeming with Tony’s favorite foods. They eat, and they talk, and when the first stars start to shine above them, Steve holds out one hand for Tony to take as the first notes of a waltz drifts into the air.

Just four days ago, Tony had flown into the inky darkness two hundred feet above the very spot their standing on. Whenever Tony closes his eyes, he can see the blueish glow of the Chitauri ships, can feel the weightlessness of floating in space, and the emptiness of it.

Steve’s hand is steadying, though, and for the first time in days, the stars don’t remind Tony of death.

They remind him of the brightness in Steve’s eyes.

“I thought you said you were a bad dancer,” he lets Steve lead. Tony’s had enough lessons to take either position, and Steve smiles shyly down.

“I took the time to learn,” Steve steps back and to the left, “if I take my guy to a dance, I’ll do it properly.”

Tony leans into Steve’s chest, giving up on his feet to just sway against Steve’s warmth, and the closeness of it. “I love you,” he murmurs, tucking his head under Steve’s chin, “so much.”

“I love you, too,” Steve falls still, his hands moving from Tony’s side to wrap completely around him, pulling him even closer, “I’m glad you’re alive. So much more than you know.”

“When I heard a nuke was coming in,” Tony admits, his voice muffled against Steve’s shirt, “I didn’t really think about the millions of people in the city. I just thought that _you_ were there and if it blew up, you’d die, too.”

Steve kisses the top of Tony’s head, the edges of his curls tickling Steve’s nose, but the familiar scent of Tony’s hair gel is calming and grounding.

He hadn’t thought of that, of how scared and desperate Tony must also have been to keep him alive.

“I’m here,” Steve reminds him. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming back to me.”

A beat.

And then, Tony presses his own kiss against Steve’s heart.

“I’ll always come back to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scream with me at starklysteve.tumblr.com :) 
> 
> P.S. I've got a Good Place AU in the works and it's going to be a behemoth, so get ready :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes!! I'm updating again :D 
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you who’ve been reading and subscribing to this story. It’s honestly been a joy to write fiction again and to share this story with you all :) Thank you especially to all of you who’ve commented along the way, I know my replies are sometimes chaotic, but you’ve really made my day <3
> 
> I have some bonus chapters for this story: edits and a list of Tony and Steve’s Youtube playlists. They’re coming up soon!
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, I hope you like the ending as much as I did writing it ;)

“Iron Man – that actually sounds catchy,” Tony walks into breakfast to read the headline on Steve’s newspaper. “Not technically accurate. The suit’s a gold-titanium alloy, but it’s evocative, the imagery.”

Steve puts the paper down to reveal the box of donuts he’d been hiding. “Your breakfast,” he greets Tony with a smile, “I had to save these from Clint.”

“My hero,” Tony blows a kiss at Steve, taking the chair next to him at the table and leaning against Steve’s shoulder. “What do you think?”

“About Iron Man?” Steve asks. Tony nods, and he wraps an arm around Tony, pulling him even closer to Steve. “I like having my fella watching my back. As long as you don’t scare me half to death.”

While Tony still had nightmares about alien worlds, Steve had nightmares of portals closing and a world without Tony. It’s a sore spot between them – on a logical level, Steve understood why Tony did it, but on an emotional level, he hasn’t been able to let Tony out of his sight for more than five minutes. The near loss is still too raw.

They have to make a choice, though, because while the appearances of flying metal men around Stark Tower have been dismissed as tests for the company’s experimental robotics program, the appearance of a metal hero gained much more public concern and questions which couldn’t be avoided.

“I like the idea of being able to watch your back, too,” Tony admits, fingers tracing the words printed on the paper. “SHIELD wants to keep my identity secret, though.”

Steve doesn’t reply straight away. He takes a glazed donut from the box and holds it up in front of Tony’s lips, smiling when Tony takes two bites in quick succession, and finishing the rest of the donut himself. “It might protect you. It might do more harm.”

“What do you think I should do?” Tony shifts around to properly look at Steve, wanting to see exactly what Steve thought of the idea SHIELD had proposed to them.

Shaking his head, Steve replies, “I trust you. You should do whatever your heart thinks is right.”

Tony takes a bite of the chocolate donut Steve’s now holding out in front of him. “You’re a sap,” he complains. In retaliation, Steve pokes Tony’s nose with the bitten end of the donut, smearing some of the powder on the tip of it as Tony swats his arm away with a disgruntled, “hey!”

“You started it,” Steve tells Tony with the maturity of a ninety-four-year-old.

“Get a room, you two,” Bruce shouts from the room next door, and Tony grins at Steve.

“I love you, Brucie Bear!” he shouts before looping an arm around Steve’s neck to drag him down, planting a noisy kiss on Steve’s lips. “And I love _you_.”

“I love you, too, Tony, but let’s try to keep the Hulk away,” Steve laughs, already regretting his words, knowing what Tony’s going to say next.

“The Hulk in the bedroom would be interest – hey! You’re turning red. Do you actually _like_ that thought? Naughty, Rogers,” Tony cackles, and Steve, with all the wisdom of his years, smears more of the donut on Tony’s nose.

* * *

Fury finds them sprawled on the floor, donuts scattered around them and their attention too busy on each other’s lips.

This time, Steve hears Fury’s muttering loud and clear: _I am not running a kindergarten, damn it._

* * *

“Just read the lines, Tony, and it’ll all blow over soon,” Coulson sighs, handing a small stack of cue cards which Tony takes warily. He’s showered and gotten all the sauce off his – and Steve’s – face, dressed in a sharp suit Steve had promised to take off as soon as they got this over with.

“A bodyguard?” Tony scoffs, “I mean – _bodyguard_ – that’s kind of flimsy, don’t you think?”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha quirk an eyebrow. He’s 93% sure that she agrees with him, but Coulson just smiles serenely, “this isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Oh yeah, what about Steve?” Tony challenges, because if his email record can prove anything, it’s that they basically set themselves up for destruction. Even now, Tony knows that Steve is three floors down, meddling with the files JARVIS hacked from SHIELD’s servers.

Coulson’s smile stays firmly fixed on his face, “they learned their lesson about not putting me in charge.”

* * *

Steve watches as Tony powders his face with practiced ease, hiding the lingering bruise on his cheek from the battle, and concealing the cut on his forehead that Steve kisses every night to make it heal faster. DUM-E is ready with the camera, Butterfingers with the lights.

He thinks, for a moment, about all the reasons he’d had for wanting to avoid the filming process. Steve supports Tony’s passion for sharing what he can with the world through his videos, but it’s been a matter of hiding his identity from the world, about making sure no one knows the truth about Steve.

And now, the world knows that Captain America is back. The world knows about Steve Rogers. There’s no need to hide anymore.

“How do I look?” Tony flashes a smile at Steve, coy and uncertain at the same time. This is the first time Steve has actually watched Tony put on make up, and the artfulness of it awe-inspiring.

“You’re always beautifully handsome,” Steve walks over, gingerly tucking a stray strand of Tony’s curls behind his ear, careful to avoid ruining the hard work on his face. “And you have to teach me how, sometime.”

Tony grins, leaning up to press a quick peck on Steve’s lips. “Why? You got a fella to impress?”

“I think I might like to be on the camera sometime soon,” he admits. It’s a good cause. He can use his voice to be a little more like Tony – to inspire the world, to share a message, and maybe, just maybe, to educate the internet on how wrong they are to write those awful things about his boyfriend online.

There have also been people who have started to use the Captain America name for the wrong reasons, making it into a rally cry for an America that is far from her ideals of freedom, openness, and opportunity. The public ought to learn that Steve is not the saint they believe him to be, that he has an arrest record, that his story isn’t about a big hero but about the little guy.

The little guy who got his happy ending.

Shock flits quickly over Tony’s face, followed by an infectious eagerness. “They are going to _love_ you.”

Steve shakes his head. “Not as much as you love me.”

“Don’t get sappy on me when there are cameras around, Rogers,” Tony accusingly pokes at his ribs, Steve darting away with a small laugh.

“Why?” he teases. “Does it make you flustered, _sweetheart_?”

As Tony sticks his tongue out at him, Steve decides he’s wrong. This isn’t an ending. It’s a beginning.

Tony moves U’s microphone slightly to the right, grinning at Steve. “I’ll show you how flustered I am _after_ we get this show on the road.”

“Okay, I’ll go and let you record in peace,” he relents. The faster Tony finishes, the faster they can get on with their plans for the day, which will hopefully be free from any third-wheeling Avengers.

Behind him, Tony shouts, “don’t go too far!”

Steve gives him one last wave before he rounds the corner, gaze lingering on the small, happy quirk of Tony’s lips, buoyed by the knowledge that he was the one to put it there. Tony had been nervous about his first video post-Chitauri invasion, and it’s gratifying to know that Steve _can_ help in some small way.

He won’t go far.

In fact, he’ll stand just around the corner, listening in for any sign that Tony needs help, and ready to jump in if he does. There are some fights, after all, that need not be fought alone.

The Avengers are a team for a reason.

And Steve and Tony – they’re partners for a reason, too.

* * *

Tony chews at his lip, eyes blinking under the bright light Butterfingers is holding up. He can do this. Read the cards, no need to think.

But the words don’t feel right, they sit heavily in Tony’s mind, false and shallow.

“There’s been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred in New York,” he strays from the script, fumbling slightly, “I know that it’s confusing. I’m not the hero type, with this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I’ve made – largely public – and the truth is – ”

“Hey, honey,” Steve steps into the camera shot, pressing a kiss on Tony’s cheek, “you still recording?”

“Yeah,” Tony grumbles, but he’s smiling, leaning in as Steve wraps his arms around him from behind and tucks his chin over Tony’s shoulder.

“Of course you’re the hero type,” he murmurs in Tony’s ear, and Tony feels himself flush. Steve must have really not gone far, waiting faithfully for him to finish. The thought gives him strength, a reminder that whatever he chooses, he won’t be doing this alone.

He looks at the camera in DUM-E’s claw that he’d been speaking to, and he looks at the cards in his hands, the carefully worded sentences SHIELD crafted – and he turns to Steve’s eyes, bright and blue and trusting.

He thinks of all the lies in his life, the hurt and the deaths, and he thinks of Steve’s hand on his shoulder, warm and safe and steady, of Bruce’s spicy curry and Natasha’s ballet shoes, Thor breaking a plate and Clint collecting flowers.

Taking a deep breath, Tony nods, turning his head to brush a kiss along Steve’s jaw.

Steve gives his shoulder a little squeeze.

They both face the camera, meeting it dead in the eye.

“The truth is,” Steve grins, wide and unrepentant, “I’m dating Iron Man.”

“And I,” Tony winks, “am Iron Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! Scream with me at starklysteve.tumblr.com :)
> 
> Also, The Good Place AU seems to be something you're craving and I have one (1) chapter written out, so hopefully, it’s coming soon <3


	13. List of Tony and Steve's Playlists

A List of Tony’s Youtube Playlists + Some Videos

  * **MIT Bloopers:** _Rhodey and Tony’s shenanigans, from freshmen to tired men_
    * Mama Bear and Microeconomics | MIT Bloopers #31
    * Sharing is Caring: Our Poor Lonely Braincell | MIT Bloopers #47
  * **Pepperony Pizza:** _On running Stark Industries and running away from pepper sprays_
    * From Pepper Sprays to CEO | Pepperony Pizza #1
    * How to Train Your Tony | Pepperony Pizza #14
  * **Science Bros:** _The mad scientist duo sharing a braincell_
    * Catching Up with Brucie Bear | Science Bros #21
    * Avengers Ice Cream Flavor Test | Science Bros #34
  * **That Was Easy:** _Tony’s solo experiments/science classes/Nobel Prize discoveries_
    * Time Travel Babies | That Was Easy #57
    * Building Iron Man | That Was Easy #34
  * **My Badass Godmother:** _The untold adventures and headaches of Peggy Carter_
    * Lipstick War Paint: Women in WW2 | My Badass Godmother #1
    * Carter and Her PhD | My Badass Godmother #17
    * All Her Grey Hairs from Raising Me | My Badass Godmother #29
  * **Punching Nazis:** _Before Steve made his own channel, he vented through Tony’s channel_
    * Steve vs. Fox News Compilation | Punching Nazis #11
    * Why My Boyfriend Needs to Be President | Punching Nazis #12
    * Trolling the Twitter Trolls | Punching Nazis #15
  * **Captain Handsome:** _Tony doing a public service by cooing over Steve’s cuteness_
    * Growing Out that Beard | Captain Handsome #5
    * Steve Leaves Me for Dog >:( | Captain Handsome #17
    * The Maria Stark Foundation Gala | Captain Handsome #19
  * **Bailing Steve:** _If Tony has to make the trip to do it, might as well make something out of it_
    * He Punched A Guy for Me <3 | Bailing Steve #7
    * Forgot His Driver’s License Again | Bailing Steve #12
    * Backalley Bullies | Bailing Steve #12
  * **Best Boyfriend Awards:** _Tony showing off his love life_
    * My Giant Bear | Best Boyfriend Awards #1
    * Dancing Monkey | Best Boyfriend Awards #9
    * Breakfast in Bed | Best Boyfriend Awards #14
  * **Training Wheels:** _The new intern Peter Parker blows up the lab in various ways_
    * Meet the New Intern | Training Wheels #1
    * How to Keep a Secret | Training Wheels #6
    * Bruce Joins the Disaster | Training Wheels #12
  * **Spider Bytes:** _Tony goes shopping with Natasha, featuring assortments of life advice_
    * Nat’s Baking Adventures | Spider Bytes #1
    * How to Leave an Impression | Spider Bytes #3
    * How to Flirt with Captain America | Spider Bytes #9
  * **Earth’s Lousiest Heroes:** _Tired landlord Tony Stark talks about his hopeless tenants_
    * Introducing My Peasants | Earth’s Lousiest Heroes #1
    * Monopoly: Reprised, Rematch | Earth’s Lousiest Heroes #3
  * **~~Cap for President:~~** no, tony, go to sleep i am not running for president
  * **~~Buying the White House:~~** i said go to sleep tony



A List of Steve’s Youtube Playlists + Some Videos

  * **Reasons Why Tony Stark is Amazing:** _His first playlist, either Steve gushes over Tony or he thirsts over Tony and there’s no in between_
    * His Heart(s) | Reasons Why Tony Stark is Amazing #1
    * His Suits | Reasons Why Tony Stark is Amazing #3
    * His Tank Tops | Reasons Why Tony Stark is Amazing #21
    * His Ass | Reasons Why Tony Stark is Amazing #22
  * **Learning the Future:** _Steve gives his opinion on these newfangled contraptions and memes_
    * How to Walk Into Mordor | Learning the Future #3
    * Dance Dance Revolution | Learning the Future #7
    * Avengers Toaster Wars | Learning the Future #9
  * **Public Service Announcement:** _Cap might be in detention videos, but he’s also been in detention_
    * My 14 Arrests and Why | Public Service Announcement #9
    * Sexuality in the 1940s | Public Service Announcement #14
    * What Dating Tony Stark is Like | Public Service Announcement #23
  * **Fight Club:** _Self-defense tricks and sparring sessions with the Avengers_
    * How to Throw a Shield | Fight Club #1
    * Tony’s Wing Chun Moves | Fight Club #2
    * Interviewing the Hulk | Fight Club #8
  * **Attempting to Art:** _Steve draws, paints, and sketches (mostly Tony) things_
    * Tony’s Weird Goatee | Attempting to Art #7
    * The Brooklyn Bridge | Attempting to Art #12
    * The Post It Collection | Attempting to Art #16
  * **Bot Adventures:** _Steve stealing the bot kids from Rhodey and Tony_
    * Hacking With JARVIS | Bot Adventures #1
    * Fetch With DUM-E | Bot Adventures #4
    * Drawing With Butterfingers | Bot Adventures #5
  * **Late Night Fondue:** _Tony flies Steve around the world to try new ‘future’ food_
    * Shawarma, Reprised | Late Night Fondue #1
    * Vietnamese Banh Mi | Late Night Fondue #7
    * Actual French Fondue | Late Night Fondue #10
  * **A Wild Tony Appears:** _There are many kinds of Tony, each as adorable as the next_
    * Morning Bedheads | A Wild Tony Appears #6
    * The Donut Monster | A Wild Tony Appears #14
    * Coffee Crazy | A Wild Tony Appears #18
  * **Keeping Up with the Stark-Rogers:** _Coming soon, ~~if Tony says yes~~ _get me a ring first, rogers




	14. Edits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here are some of the old edits I've made for this story (which have been cross-posted on tumblr, so if you would like to see them but cannot, they're at starklysteve.tumblr.com/tagged/social-media-aus). I'm experimenting with a new style, though, because I've figured out a way to (hopefully) make better edits cause I keep thinking up of snarky video titles so there may or may not be more :)
> 
> Thank you again for reading through the fic! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. oceanbluemoon I hope I did justice to one of your favorite foods!


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